


give you my pain, give you my body

by DietMountainnnDew



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent, Friends to Lovers, Gay Sex, Heavy Angst, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Multi, Original Character Death(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Rape/Non-con Elements, also sort of ghosts/supernatural beings, like I'm basically trying to say there is SOME happiness and love in this fic, some relationships are healthy some aren't
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:22:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25269046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DietMountainnnDew/pseuds/DietMountainnnDew
Summary: Sorry in advance because I suck at summaries, but:What if the Duke had offered Thomas a job as his valet after their weeks together during the London season? Thomas readily accepts, eager to make his way up in the world, but he is more naive than he admits and he doesn’t know what he is getting himself into. The Duke isn't as sweet as he seems and has cruel intentions for Thomas. Meanwhile, Jimmy has only been working at Crowborough Manor for a few months and is just now beginning to realize why it's so different from all the other houses.Again this is the worst summary ever, but please give this a chance, I promise it will be better than I have made it sound.
Relationships: Duke of Crowborough/Other(s), Jimmy Kent/Original Male Character(s), Jimmy Kent/Peter Pelham, Thomas Barrow/Duke of Crowborough, Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent, Thomas Barrow/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 49





	1. Do you trust me, darling?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi and welcome to the first chapter of this fic! This is my first ever fan-fiction that I'm posting so I'm pretty nervous. This is basically just a bunch of ideas I had in my head that kind of combined into what's going to be a multi-chapter pretty intense story. I don't really have a clear plot outline so I'm not sure just how long it's going to be yet or how it's going to end. It's going to get pretty dark so I'll update archive warnings as needed. There isn't really anything to worry about in this chapter besides the mention of a past domestic altercation. Anyhow this chapter is just to set stuff up, before we get to Crowborough and meet Jimmy and the original characters (that will happen next chapter). Also I apologize for any historical inaccuracies or grammar mistakes, but enjoy!

**THOMAS**

“Darling, don’t look so sad” 

Thomas glares at Philip. Of course, he looks sad, he is. And with good reason. Soon he’ll be returning to Downton and Philip will be returning to Crowborough and they won’t see each other, not for a long time, probably. He’s annoyed that Philip is taking their impending split so lightly. So he opens his mouth and snaps.

“I’ll look however I want if it’s what I feel. And don’t think you can tell me how to feel” He regrets it before he even finishes speaking. Philip is angry now. He can tell by the way Philip’s eyes narrow and flash darkly. Thomas sits still, not breathing, waiting to see what he’ll say, wondering if Philip will hit him like he did the week before when Thomas got drunk and kissed another boy. But the anger passes and Philip leans back, laughing.

“Really, Thomas. Must you let everything make you mad?”

How does Philip always manage to make him feel so childish? 

“I’m not mad, I just don’t want to leave you” He mumbles this, turning away from Philip. He doesn’t like it when anyone is condescending to him, but he especially hates when Philip is.

“Who says you have to?” At this, Thomas whips around.

“What’d you mean by that?” Thomas tries to remain nonchalant, but he can feel the heat rising to his face. _Does he want me to live with him? Will he give me a job?_ And then _does he love me?_ Thomas doesn’t ask, he waits for Philip to answer his first question.

“You’re blushing” Philip strokes Thomas’s face “How sweet.”

“Come on, Philip. Tell me what you meant.” Thomas prays he doesn’t sound too hopeful. He doesn’t want Philip to know how much he actually likes him. If there’s one thing that Thomas has learned it’s to always keep a wall up, to never really let anyone in. It makes it harder to get hurt. Thomas likes to pretend that he’s good at it, at shutting people out, and keeping himself devoid of emotion. But he’s not good at it, he’s quite terrible at it actually. So he’s been hurt a lot. Hurt by so many people in his 17 years.

“I sort of thought it was obvious” Philip smirks like he’s deriving pleasure from Thomas’s lack of understanding.

“Well, not to me” Thomas returns Philip’s smile with a glare.

“Oh, Thomas, darling. Don’t play dumb”

“I’m not playing anything. Maybe if you just said what you meant instead of being so bloody cryptic, I wouldn’t have to-” Thomas is close to yelling now.

“Oh for god sakes!” Philip growls this, cutting Thomas off and stunning him into silence, “You shouldn’t get angry like that, it doesn’t suit you. Now if you just shut up for a minute, I’ll tell you what I meant” He drops his voice, tones it to be quiet and soothing, and asks, “Will you do that, Thomas?”

Thomas nods, but anger simmers inside of him threatening to boil over. He bites his lip and holds his tongue, trying to wait for Philip to speak. It’s hard for him not to spit out a cutting retort. He knows it would make things worse, but he’s always been a masochist, taunting and baiting his father and eventually the men that picked him off the streets, until they turned round and hit him again. He’s unsure exactly why, but it’s his own twisted way of defending himself and his pride. This time he stays quiet. It’s the right decision because Philip gently takes Thomas into an embrace.

“I’m going to take you away from here” Philip murmurs this into Thomas’s ear, crooning almost like a lullaby “I must confess I’m going to steal you away from Downton, like a right little thief”

“You are?” Thomas whispers into Philip’s shoulder. “What about my notice, what about a reference?”

“Silly boy. You won’t need a reference if I’ve already hired you.”

“What’ll I do?”

Philip sits back, looking into Thomas’s eyes. “Well, you’ll be my valet, of course. Among other things. We’ll have loads of fun. I’m rather famous for my parties” At that he gives Thomas a wink.

“When’ll I go?” Thomas can barely hide the eagerness, the childishness that is creeping into his voice.

“In two days, early in the morning, darling. Before anyone notices you’re gone. You can leave a letter to tell them where you’re off to. You’ll be leaving before me, I’m to stay a little longer to clear up some business about my estate. It might be better that way, you’ll meet everyone downstairs and get acclimated. I’ve already written to say you’ll be coming.”

Thomas bites his lip, trying to be coy. “How’d you know I’d accept?”

“I know everything, darling” At that moment Philip looks into Thomas’s eyes with such intensity and desire, Thomas nearly falls to the floor. Philip leans forward and ravages Thomas’s mouth with a passionate, bruising kiss. Between kisses, he breathes into Thomas’s neck. “Let’s make love, my sweet boy”

And then their clothes are on the floor and Thomas’s legs are up over Philip’s shoulders, his head tipped back in pleasure. He’s nearly bent in half and Philip is thrusting into him in perfect rhythm, near screams of pleasure escape his lips. Philip leans down and captures Thomas’s lips, effectively keeping him quiet. _This is heaven, or I guess hell. If this is hell I don’t think I’ll mind it too much._ Philip’s kisses move to his neck, leaving bruising marks, and Thomas digs his nails into Philips back, asking for more. His own cock is throbbing and he thinks he’ll die if Philip doesn’t touch him soon.

“Oh god, Philip” Thomas can barely get the words out “Please, Philip, touch me”

Philip pulls away from marking Thomas’s neck. “I’ll touch you when I’m good and ready Thomas”

“No, Philip” His voice is breaking, he’s about to start begging. “God please, now, I need it now, I think that I’ll-” Philip’s hand covers Thomas’s mouth, silencing him. He thrusts harder and faster hiking Thomas’s legs up higher. His eyes flash dark, turning near black, making him look almost murderous. But, they’re back to normal as quickly as they’d changed. Thomas has seen that look only a few times in their month together, but it’s so brief every time he’s almost sure he’s imagined it. Thomas knows he should always expect the worst from people, but he often finds himself drawn to those who give a sense of impending danger. Thomas trusts no one. No, Thomas trusts everyone.

“That’s a good boy, say my name, darling, scream it” Philip’s hand is off his mouth now and is around his cock, moving in time with Philip’s thrusts. Thomas knows he won’t last much longer and he tilts his head back, as his vision turns to white, and comes, Philip’s name rolling off his tongue. Philip follows close behind, and collapses onto Thomas’s chest, as they breathe heavily in a quiet rhythm. They stay like this for a moment and then Philip rolls off of Thomas. Thomas moves close, resting his head onto Philip’s chest. His head is still spinning and he can barely see straight. He opens his mouth without thinking and the words just fall out.

“I love you” 

Philip just laughs. Thomas sits up, hurt and confusion already clouding his brain.

“Well say something then, don’t just bloody laugh” Philip stops laughing, but his taunting smirk still remains.

“What do you want me to say?” He tries to pull Thomas back to him, but Thomas won’t give in.

“I think it’s rather obvious”

“Good god, Thomas. I’m not going to say I love you too, I don’t much like to lie. Oh don’t look so hurt, we’ve only been at it for a month. I care deeply for you, but I’m not sure I love you, not just yet. I think that I will in time, you just need to trust me. Do you trust me, darling?”

Thomas looks away, trying to hide the tears that have started to well up. He nods, unable to speak for fear of breaking down.

“Good, now lie down and go to sleep” And Thomas lies back down and returns to Philip’s arms because the promise of eventual love is the closest thing he’s ever gotten to anyone actually loving him.

**PHILIP**

Philip watches as Thomas drifts off to sleep. It’s easy, too easy really. Though Philip wouldn’t have set his sights on Thomas if he had thought otherwise. This isn’t supposed to be the hard part, that comes later once he’s sure he’s got Thomas under his spell and safely spirited away to Crowborough Manor. He’s sure Thomas doesn’t suspect anything, he wouldn’t have accepted Philip’s proposal if he had. And Philip is too smart to pick a boy that would suspect anything. He saw right through Thomas’s hardened exterior, his eyes a glowering steely gray and his red lips in a seemingly permanent pout, and recognized Thomas for what he really was. Just a pretty young boy, who is too naive and trusting for his own good.

Philip almost wants to grab him and shake him awake. To scream out the things running through his head. _“Can’t you see I’m dangerous? Can’t you see I’m going to hurt you?”_. Of course, he doesn’t. Because warning Thomas will take the thrill out of it. But, he’s caught himself over the past few weeks dropping little hints and administering little tests to see just how oblivious Thomas is.

“I don’t ever want to see you pull another stunt like that in front of me again” Philip remembers how he had seethed at Thomas after Thomas had done nothing to reject another boy’s advances and gone as far as to kiss the boy back. Thomas had opened his mouth, no doubt to snap back, and Philip had pulled back and slapped him into silence, which hung in the air for a few minutes before Thomas had gotten up and faced Philip blinking tears back from his eyes.

“You don’t get to do that to me, and expect me to want to stay” He’d tried to remain collected, but had choked as he said, “I won’t come back”. Philip laughs now because of course, Thomas had been back the next night, desperate for Philip’s care and affection. Philip knows that this is the reason he’s bringing Thomas back to Crowborough, well, rather sending him back. Philip doesn’t have any business left in London, but he’s holding off going home for as long as he can.

He still doesn’t like to call it home, even if he’s lived there for more than a decade. But, it was like a prison to him in the beginning and though it belongs to him now, it will remain his prison until he dies. No, Philip has no need, no want to hurry back to Crowborough with its vast halls, secret passageways, and hidden rooms. He wants to be able to sleep through the night for a few more days, free from the sleepless nights awaiting him with voices that only he can hear and apparitions that only he can see, waking nightmares plagued by the two men he fears the most. The one who twisted him into the cold, cruel man he is today, the other the only one he ever loved, who he broke and destroyed and pushed over the edge. Yes, the longer Philip stays away from Crowborough, the better, even if it’s only a few days. 

It’s better for Thomas, too. Safer, even. Because Philip will be making his true intentions clear the moment he returns and Thomas won’t have anyone to protect him. For Philip is a liar (earlier he said he didn’t much like to lie, but that itself was a complete and utter lie). Thomas isn’t really going to be a valet, he’s going to be Philip’s toy, doomed to be at his mercy, a slave to every single one of Philip’s desires and needs no matter how dark and violent they get. But, Thomas doesn’t know this yet and what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him, well not now anyway.

_He’ll be a good boy too, better than the one before him. He’ll have to be._ It’s why Philip chose to pursue him, after all. He’s sure Thomas will be challenging to break, but that just adds to the fun. Once he’s broken, he’ll be weak and pliant, obeying Philip’s every command. _I won’t push him to the edge, though. I’ll weaken him, I’ll ruin him, but I won’t drive him to his end, not like I did with the one before._ Philip looks down at Thomas’s sleeping figure, so peaceful and unsuspecting. _They’re always like that before I get them. I was like that once before he got me._ This last thought comes out of nowhere and Philip banishes it to the back of his mind. He closes his eyes and prays for sleep to take him. It comes quickly, plunging him into a dark and dreamless sleep, free from the ghosts that await his arrival.


	2. If these walls could talk, they'd have a lot to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An extra-long update for y'all. I didn't plan on it being so long, but here it is. Just Jimmy and Thomas's POV. Philip hasn't gotten home yet. I know in the show there is an age gap of a few years between Thomas and Jimmy but, for the purpose of this story Jimmy is just a year younger. There aren't really any warnings, just a dream that sort of references suicide. Anyhow, this chapter introduces both Jimmy and some original characters, so enjoy!

**JIMMY**

“Oh, Jimmy! Lost in thought are ya?” Rodney’s voice, loud and rough, snaps Jimmy back to reality and leaves him wondering how Rodney made his way up to first footman, without refining his accent.

“No, I was just-”

“Michaels and Latham are around the corner, just make yourself busy until they pass,” Rodney says this quietly, so just Jimmy can hear. Jimmy wastes no time and jumps to his feet, beginning to sort through the folded piles of freshly ironed clothes, while Rodney makes himself scarce. It isn’t Mr. Michaels, the ancient butler who must have been around since the dawn of time, that Jimmy’s so afraid of. It’s Mr. Latham, a cruel, and conniving weasel in the human form of His Grace’s valet. It didn’t take Jimmy long to figure out that Latham was really the one in charge. It’s ever so clear now as he strolls around the corner, chest puffed up and eyes cold. He looks Jimmy up and down and gives a sort of scoff.

“James, rather nice to see you making yourself useful.” And with that, he turns on his heel and leaves the room. Jimmy doesn’t even have time to open his mouth. Rodney waltzes back in, cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“At ease, soldier.”

Jimmy laughs, pushing away the clothes and sitting back into the rocking chair. “So he’s gone then”

“Yes, he’s buggered off upstairs” Rodney sits, tipping his chair back, and rests his feet on the table. “God, he’s a right prick”

Jimmy nods, smiling. He remembers how Latham had lectured him about how to properly polish silver and how Rodney had stood behind him mocking his every word. When Latham had turned around, Rodney had acted like he hadn’t been doing a thing, averting his eyes and pushing his lips into a pout. Jimmy could have kissed him then and there. Of course, he wouldn’t actually, though he had before. But that had been a year ago, a drunken mistake that had occurred after Sam, Jimmy’s first love, had introduced the two of them. 

He hadn’t seen Rodney for months after that. Which is why it had been so surprising when Rodney had found and recognized Jimmy asleep in an alley and offered to get him a job. Jimmy had accepted because he had nothing, no home, no one to return to, as his mother had finally succumbed to the illness that had been slowly weakening her heart and lungs and Sam had decided Jimmy wasn’t worth his time anymore. Rodney had held Jimmy while he cried and when his tears were all dried up, Rodney had shown Jimmy how to fake a reference and coached him on getting through an interview. On the day that he was to interview, Rodney had met him at the train station and walked with him to the manor. At the gate, he’d pulled Jimmy aside.

“I know you’re like me” He’d whispered this, looking around to make sure no one could hear “I know you’re a lavender too”

Jimmy had opened his mouth, but Rodney had held up his hand. “No, Jimmy just let me finish, I know you’re like me. But, you can’t let anyone else know. Not at the Manor, not if you want to be safe.” The look in his eyes had been so desperate that Jimmy had simply nodded. He’d aced his interview and gotten the job. He hasn’t kissed a boy since, mainly because Edgar and Oliver, the second and third footmen prefer the company of women. And Rodney made it clear that he had no intent to have a relationship, which was fine with Jimmy. They’d grown extremely close in their two months working together and Jimmy saw Rodney as his older brother. 

“Jimmy. Jimmy!” Rodney gently nudges his shoulder and brings Jimmy back to earth.

“Sorry, what’d you say?”

“God, yer a real spacey one aren’t ya?” Rodney shakes his head and takes a drag “I said you an’ I have to go and clean up the library, ya know dusting, sweeping, all of that”

“Well, we’d best get started then” 

Rodney stands and crushes out his cigarette, Jimmy follows as they make their way up the stairs to the library. Rodney complains the whole time, albeit good-naturedly.

“I don’t understand why he can’t just have opened up his London house” Rodney grumbles as he throws open the doors to the library with a dramatic flair.

“Wouldn’t that mean more work for us then?” Jimmy counters, with a smile.

“Who cares about the bloody work, I’d give anything for a few fun nights in London, s’not fair we had to be stuck here the whole season. But, I guess we’ll play the hand we’re dealt, huh?” Rodney tosses a feather duster to Jimmy.

“I guess so,” Jimmy says as he catches the duster with ease. 

They get to work, Rodney whistles a seemingly made-up tune. He moves in rhythm to his song, almost dancing. Jimmy watches him, smiling. Often, he wonders what it would be like to feel like Rodney, who was always happy, always making jokes. He figures it would be rather nice. But, perhaps if Jimmy wasn’t always so lost in his own little world he’d see the other side to Rodney. If Jimmy paid closer attention he might notice the sad, far away look in Rodney’s eyes, or wonder why Rodney refuses to set foot on the drawing-room balcony. If Jimmy wasn’t such a heavy sleeper he might wake in the middle of the night and hear Rodney’s quiet sobs, muffled by his pillow, and see his shoulders shaking. But, he doesn’t, of course, he doesn’t. And so Jimmy remains oblivious.

He’s oblivious even now, as Rodney’s song slows and takes on a sad tone. Jimmy is too distracted by a cracked, dusty photo tucked away in a corner. It’s a photograph of a man, he’s fairly young, maybe in his thirties. He’s not very tall, but he’s also slouched against a window. He’s got what looks to be sandy hair and a good build. His mouth is turned up in a devilish smile and he’s looking straight at the camera. His eyes are so piercing that they seem to jump out of the photo. 

“Rodney, who’s this?” Jimmy takes the photo, dusting it off “Is it His Grace’s father?”

Rodney takes the photo and smirks, shaking his head, “His Grace was an orphan. That’s the old duke.”

“How did His Grace inherit then?”

“The old duke was his uncle, his wife couldn’t have children or she died or something. I guess His Grace was the closest living male relative. He moved here when he was seventeen. And he inherited it when he was twenty-one. I’ve always thought His Grace didn’t like his uncle, too much.”

“Why’s that?”

Rodney shrugs, “Dunno, I mean no one downstairs ever said a bad thing about him, but His Grace never talked about him, I got the feeling he wasn’t so nice behind closed doors.”

Jimmy takes the picture back, studying it, “So you never knew him then”

“No, he’d been gone for a while”

Jimmy peers closer, “He doesn’t look nice.”

Rodney leans over for a second look, “He’s smiling.”

“Yes, but his eyes look cold like he’s a villain or something.”

“Hmm, I guess you’re right.” Rodney’s lost interest, so Jimmy leaves the picture on the piano. 

Later in the day, Jimmy’s alone in the servant’s hall. He’s dozing off in the rocking chair when a knock sounds at the back door, jolting him awake. He stumbles to his feet calling out, “Just a moment”. 

He hurries to the door, flinging it open and comes face to face with the prettiest boy he’s ever seen. With his milky skin, jet-black hair, and red full lips, he reminds Jimmy of Snow White if Snow White had been a boy.

**THOMAS**

The door to the Manor’s servants hall is flung open by a boy, with a pretty face and blonde curls that make him look like an ancient god of love. Thomas loses the ability to speak for a moment, but the same thing appears to have happened to the blonde boy. They stare at each other for a moment, before the other boy breaks the silence.

“Who’re you” It comes out quiet and slurred as if the boy hadn’t really meant to say it.

Thomas stands up straight and puffs out his chest, “Thomas Barrow. I’m to be His Grace’s new valet.”

Confusion clouds the other boy’s face, “New valet? But what about Mr.-”

“Who’re ya talking to Jimmy?” The blonde boy, apparently called Jimmy, is cut off by another boy, this one older, with short, close-cropped hair and a gap between his two front teeth. He looks up from the cigarette he’s lighting and see’s Thomas, “Who the bloody hell is this?’

“Says he’s the new valet,” When Jimmy says this, the other boy’s face goes white, then flushes red quickly, and his hands ball into fists.

“T-the new valet?” He stutters this out through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, that’s what he says, but what about Mr. Lat-” The older boy silences Jimmy with a kick. He steps back, leaving room for Thomas to step in.

“Just let him in, Jimmy. I’ll get Mr. Latham.” The boy spins on his heel and storms away. Jimmy turns to Thomas and gives him a shrug.

“What was his name?” Thomas asks, stepping into the hallway and shutting the door.

“That’s Rodney. He's first footman.” 

_Maybe that’s why he’s so angry, he feels like he got passed over._ Of course, Thomas doesn’t say that out loud. Instead, he puts his suitcase down and says, “And you’re Jimmy, what position ‘ave you got then?”

Jimmy seems to stand taller, proud to be getting the attention, “Well, I’m the fourth footman. I’m the newest one. There’s Edgar, he’s second, and there’s Oliver, he’s third. I guess you’ll meet ‘em later,” Then he leans in like he’s telling a secret, “But, between you and me, they aren’t the friendliest, so you should watch out for ‘em.”

“Well, thanks for the advice, I’ll keep an eye out.” Thomas smiles and Jimmy smiles back.

“How old are you anyway? You seem too young to be a valet.”

Thomas laughs at Jimmy’s bluntness, “I’m seventeen, so I guess I am a bit young. How old are you?”

“I’m sixteen. So how’d you get the job? How’d-” 

“James, I’m sure you have better things to do than stand around and chat. Find some work to do.” Thomas studies the man who cut Jimmy off. He’s tall and broad-shouldered with thin brown hair and dark beady eyes almost like a weasel. He strides down the hallway, with Rodney in tow. Jimmy hurries away as the man comes to a stop in front of Thomas, looking him up and down. 

“I’m Thomas Barrow. The new-”

“The new valet, so I’m told,” the man says, dismissively, “I’m Mr. Latham, head valet.”

Thomas can feel his brow furrowing in confusion, “I’m not replacing you am I?” He laughs awkwardly, but it is clear Mr. Latham doesn’t find it funny.

“No. You are not replacing me,” He turns to Rodney. “Rodney, why don’t you show Thomas where he’ll be staying.”

“Mr. Latham, shouldn’t I be called Mr. Barrow, since I’m a valet now?” Mr. Latham turns to Thomas with a sour look on his face.

“No. You will be called Thomas here. Rodney will show you to your room in the attic,” He turns back to Rodney, “I presume you know that it’s the one at the end of the hall?”

Rodney nods. With that, Mr. Latham marches away, Thomas decides that he hates him already. Jimmy appears again, aiming to push past Rodney, who stops him, “Jimmy, take him up to his room. It’s the empty one at the end of the hall.”

“Didn’t he say for you to do it?”

“God Jimmy! Just do it, you haven’t got anything else to do,” Rodney hurries away, leaving both boys shrugging in his wake. Jimmy speaks first.

“Well, I guess we should get on then.” Thomas picks up his suitcase and follows Jimmy down the hall.

“Is he always like that?”

“Rodney? No never, I haven’t the slightest idea what’s gotten into him,” Jimmy’s blue eyes are wide in disbelief. 

“So you’re close with him then?”

“I wasn’t at first, but he helped me get the job and now we’re like brothers.”

“That’s nice for you. I guess he just doesn’t like me much, that other bloke too.”

“Mr. Latham? He doesn’t like anyone, but you’ll be better off on his good side, he runs things down here even if he’s not the butler,” Jimmy stops at the foot of the stairs and unbolts a small door, holding it open, “Secret passage to the attics, come on.”

Thomas follows him up the steep and narrow staircase. The servants' quarters are simply a long hallway lined in a few doorways. There’s no divide to separate the men and women’s quarters which is a shock to Thomas and he turns to comment, “Which half is the men’s side?”

Jimmy looks at him, confused “What’d you mean?”

Thomas laughs at Jimmy’s naivety, “Well the men and women don’t share rooms, do they?”

“No, cause we haven’t got any women livin’ up here.”

“What about the maids and the housekeeper and the cook?” It’s Thomas’s turn to be confused.

“The cook lives in town an’ I guess the maids do too, but I’ve never met any of em’. I guess they’ll start workin’ again now that the seasons over.”

Thomas simply shakes his head in bewilderment, “Well, that’s different from Downton, but I’m sure I’ll adjust.”

“I’m sure you’ll be just fine,” Jimmy flashes Thomas a dazzling smile and points to the door at the end of the hall, “That’s your room down there, I can wait while you get comfortable if you’d like”

“Why not? It’ll only take me a moment, I’ll unpack later,” Thomas takes a deep breath and tries to keep himself from skipping to his new room. Despite the less than warm welcome he’d received, he can’t contain his joy. _I’ve made it, I’ve finally made it. Philip will be here in a few days and we’ll be the happiest people alive._ With these bright thoughts on his mind, he opens the door to his new room and is met with a sight that is...interesting to say the least. Thomas backs up, unsure.

“Jimmy? Are you sure this is my room?”

“That’s what Rodney said. What’s the matter with it anyw-Oh!” Jimmy cuts himself off when he gets close enough to see.

The room is big, big for a servant’s room anyway. The same goes for the bed and there’s even a real lamp beside it. There’s a closet and a large dresser with an ornate mirror on the wall. All these things are strange, but the strangest thing is that it looks like someone is still living in it, well sort of. The bed is unmade, the covers thrown back and spilling onto the floor, there’s still a slight impression in the mattress like someone had just been laying there. There’s clothes hanging in the closet and things on the dresser, but everything is covered in a sheen of dust. It’s as though someone woke up months ago and never returned. 

Thomas steps in, tentatively, looking around. He runs his finger through the dust on the dresser, “Do you know who lived here?”

Jimmy enters too, “No, it was empty when I got here, that was two months ago. I’ve never seen anyone go in it before. It’s awfully nice for a valet’s room, huh?”

“Yes, but it’s-I don’t know. It’s strange,” And it is. Thomas can’t quite put his finger on it, but something in the room is unsettling to him. It feels almost as though someone else is in the room, someone who doesn’t want them there and it gives Thomas a bad feeling. For a split second, he considers picking up his suitcase and running away and out of the Manor. Away from the unfriendly footmen and strange customs, but he doesn’t have anywhere else to go. Besides, it’s a silly thought anyway. So instead he says “Guess we should get dusting then!”

**Jimmy**

He and Thomas made quick work cleaning up the room. In no time at all they’d stripped the bed, dusted the dresser, and were beginning to move the clothes into a box they had found. Jimmy found it hard to keep himself from watching Thomas as they worked for he was really, truly infatuated with his beauty. He’d catch himself if he felt that he’d been staring. A little nagging voice appears in the back of his head now, as he fights to keep his gaze from Thomas’s sharp cheekbones and dark eyelashes. _You’ve got to hide it, Jimmy. Listen to Rodney. You’ve got to protect yourself._ Protect himself from what? He still isn’t sure, but he’d rather be safe than sorry.

“Do you suppose he feels threatened?” Thomas’s question breaks into Jimmy’s thoughts.

“Who?”

“Rodney, do you think he wanted my job?”

Jimmy shakes his head, “I’m not sure. I mean, maybe. He never said anything to me about it.”

Thomas shrugs, “Well, maybe he just realized now that he wanted the job.”

A scoff sounds and both boys spin around. Rodney is halfway down the hall, smoking a cigarette. He glares at Thomas.

“Believe me, the last thing in the world I would want is to get any closer to that snobbish prick-”

“Don’t talk about Philip like that.” Thomas snaps loudly. His hand flies up over his mouth and his cheeks flush red as he realizes his slip. Jimmy steps back, unsure of what to do.

Rodney simply smirks and says “So that’s how it is,” in a low, taunting voice, “Come on, Jimmy. Let’s give Thomas some time to rest before dinner.”

Jimmy follows Rodney, but only because Thomas has turned away. As they reach the secret door, Rodney turns back and calls down the hallway, “You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into. You don’t know Philip,” Thomas doesn’t turn around. 

They walk in silence down the steep corridor. Only when they reach the servants' hall, does Jimmy dare to speak.

“Why are you being so mean to him?” It comes out quieter than he meant it and sounds almost fearful.

Rodney only shrugs, the anger in his eyes having dissipated. “He shows up out of nowhere, acting all high and mighty. Like he knows everything, but I know that he doesn’t cause if he was smart he wouldn’t be here. It’s like he thinks he’s just gonna replace Jas-” He cuts himself off, falling silent.

 _Replace who?_ But, Rodney looks sad and Jimmy doesn’t want to press. He just wishes he understood the unspoken secrets that everyone else seems to be in on. 

“He’s pretty, that Thomas is.” Jimmy doesn’t know why he says it, and he regrets it immediately as the anger floods back into Rodney’s eyes.

“Don’t say that. You can’t. Don’t think about him like that. He doesn’t belong to you, you won’t ever be able to have him as long as he’s here. He belongs to Phil- His Grace, and only His Grace.”

Jimmy stares at Rodney, unable to comprehend what he’s saying. “What do you-”

“Oh god Jimmy, just sod off and leave me alone,” Rodney hurries away.

Thomas doesn’t come down for dinner. Nobody says anything about it and Jimmy doesn’t ask. After he hears Oliver whisper to Edgar “I guess we’ll have to be locking the balcony doors from now on, in case the new toy gets any ideas.” Edgar laughs but elbows Oliver in the side. Jimmy pretends he doesn’t notice, but he wishes he knew what they meant. 

**THOMAS**

Thomas ignores the dinner bell when it rings. He doesn’t want to face anyone. He wishes Philip would just hurry up and come home. It’s been a few hours since the bell rang, so he’s sure dinner’s over, but no ones come up yet. He’s dusted the room and cleaned out the closet and the dresser, though it still doesn’t feel like it’s his room. He’s too exhausted to care so he collapses onto the bed to rest for a few minutes. He doesn’t mean to fall asleep. But, sleep comes quickly and with it comes a dream, a strange one.

_He’s lying, flat on his back._

_He can’t move._

_He’s bleeding, but nothing hurts._

_There’s a balcony above him. Did he fall from it? Did he jump?_

_There’s somebody standing on the railing. Someone he’s never seen before. A beautiful boy with auburn hair that’s too long and blowing in the wind._

_The boy looks up to the sky and jumps from the balcony._

Thomas jolts awake. He tries to sit up, but he can’t. He can’t move. And then somebody’s standing over him. It’s the boy from his dream, he’s crying. Thomas tries to speak, but he can’t. The boy just shakes his head and dissolves into thin air. Thomas doesn’t even realize that he’s regained the ability to move until he’s doubled over in the hallway trying to breathe.

“Thomas?” Thomas jumps back startled, but it’s only Jimmy staring at him with his wide blue eyes, “Are you alright? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

Thomas would have laughed if he wasn’t so terrified, “I-I think maybe I have. I-I fell asleep and I had this terrible dream and when I woke up, oh god I don’t know.”

Jimmy takes Thomas gently by the arm and leads him across the hall and into another bedroom, “This is me an’ Rodney’s room, just stay here an’ I’ll get you some water.”

Thomas doesn’t have time to protest before Jimmy’s gone. He steps forward on shaky legs and stumbles against the bed closest to the door. A pillow falls and as Thomas bends to pick it up he notices a photograph that must have slipped out from the case. 

He picks it up and is immediately shocked. For the photo is of two young men, both naked. More specifically it is a photo of Rodney and the boy from his dream. They are lounging on a velvet loveseat, Rodney’s arms are around the other boy and the look in their eyes suggests that they are completely and truly in love. The inscription on the back must be Rodney’s writing as it reads, “Jason and I”. _But who is Jason? And why was he in my dream?_

“What the hell are you doing?” Thomas spins around to face a fuming Rodney.

“I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean, too. I-it fell, I was just picking it up.” 

“Just bloody shut up and get out,” Rodney rips the photo from Thomas’s hand. Thomas doesn’t make a move and Rodney shoves him, “Get out of here!”

And Thomas runs, pushing past a confused Jimmy. He runs to his- Jasons?- room and slams the door. He doesn’t know why he’s crying but, he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, that's the end of my second chapter. Philip will be back next chapter so things will start getting interesting on the Crowbarrow front. If you want a face to put to Rodney think Ewan McGregor in Trainspotting, kind of random. If you want a face to put to Jason think of a young Johnathan Rhys Meyers with long hair. Anyhow please leave kudos and feel free to comment. I'd love some feedback!


	3. You have always known how to get to me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter- Philip's here! Mostly his POV, just a little bit of Thomas and Jimmy's. Things are starting to get dark. (Trigger warning) for dubious consent. So with that being said, enjoy the update!

**Thomas**

Four days and three nights pass. Jason doesn’t come back, but Thomas still doesn’t sleep through the night. Nobody acknowledges Thomas, except when they want him to make himself useful. Rodney won’t even speak to him. The only one who’s nice to him is Jimmy. He makes an effort to talk to Thomas and is always inviting him to play cards. Now they’ve snuck a few moments to themselves and are huddled together in the servants’ dining room. The newspaper is spread out in front of them and they’re pointing out the funniest bits in the gossip column. They’re laughing hard at a joke Jimmy made, so oblivious to the world around them. Neither of them hears the back door open and then close.

**Philip**

Philip comes in through the back door. Nobody knows he’s arriving today and he wants to catch everyone by surprise. He hears laughter from the dining room and quietly walks to the doorway. He doesn’t like what he sees. Thomas, _his Thomas,_ is sitting next to that new blonde footman, _Johnny? Jamie? Jimmy, that was it._ They're close, much too close for Philip’s liking. And even though Rodney had said that Jimmy didn’t see things their way, Philip never really, completely believed him. Thomas is his and his alone. He clears his throat. Both boys look up and promptly jump to their feet.

“Your Grace!” It’s Jimmy who speaks, “We’re ever so sorry, we didn’t know you were there.”

Philip shakes his head dismissively, “Don’t worry, I suppose I should have knocked. Please be seated.”

Jimmy sits and Thomas moves to follow, but Philip narrows his eyes, “Not you, Thomas. I’d like to speak with you. Somewhere private.”

Thomas slowly comes around the table, towards where Philip is standing, “Your Grace I-,” Philip cuts him off as he grabs hold of Thomas’s wrist and practically drags him down the hallway. He opens the back door and pushes Thomas into the yard, slamming the door behind them as Thomas stumbles against the wall. Thomas opens his mouth to say something, but Philip holds up his hand.

“What did I just see, Thomas?” He spits the words out, his hand flying up to keep Thomas pinned to the wall.

Thomas stutters, “I-I d-don’t know, Philip. W-what’s the matter? What did I do?” His gray eyes are wide in bewilderment, tinged with fear.

“You really don’t know, do you?” Thomas shrinks back, shaking his head. Philip holds him tighter, “Well, I’ll tell you what I saw. I saw you throwing yourself all over that- that little blonde thing like a cheap whore!”

Thomas struggles, almost succeeding in pushing Philip off, “We’re just friends, is all it is. We weren’t doing nothing.”

Philip knows this is probably true, but he hates that he’s back at his prison and he’s convinced that the other boys have been telling Thomas lies about him. Did they say he was insane? Did they say he was damaged and twisted? He’s sure Thomas is already pulling away from him. So he kisses Thomas roughly aiming to bruise that pouting red mouth and whispers into his ear, “You’re mine and mine only, Thomas. Don’t you forget it.”

He leaves Thomas alone in the yard, rushing into the hallway. He nearly knocks over a confused Mr. Latham who exclaims, “Your Grace! I didn’t know you’d arrived.”

Philip just nods and keeps walking, “My bags are still outside. I’m going to my room and I’ll take tea in the library in a little while.”

**JIMMY**

Thomas doesn’t talk to Jimmy when he comes back inside. Jimmy doesn’t say anything to him, even though he looks as though something is wrong. Thomas’s eyes are shining and wet like he’s holding in tears, his skin is two shades paler and his lips are flushed a dark red. He gives Jimmy a tight smile as he walks past, but avoids making eye contact. Latham hurries in and begins to squawk about how the Duke is taking tea in the library and Jimmy will be the one to serve him and he better not do a thing wrong. Jimmy just nods. 

The bell rings not long after and Jimmy takes the tea tray and makes his way to the library. When he enters the Duke is standing with his back to the door, inspecting one of the bookshelves. Jimmy clears his throat and steps forward.

“Excuse me, Your Grace. I’ve brought the tea up.”

The Duke turns around and Jimmy can’t deny that he is handsome. Of course, he shouldn’t think like that so he banishes the thought back to where it came from. The Duke doesn’t respond to Jimmy, he just stares at him. No, not at him, past him. His eyes narrow and darken. Jimmy turns and follows his gaze to the piano, more specifically the photograph of the uncle. The Duke steps forward, fists clenched.

“Your Grace? Is something wrong?” 

The Duke raises a shaking hand pointing to the photo, “Who put that there? Who put that photograph there?”

Jimmy takes a step back, putting the tea tray down, “I-I did Your Grace.”

The Duke strides towards Jimmy until he’s standing, towering over him as Jimmy shrinks back, “Why? Why did you? Tell me!”

Jimmy makes to step back, but the Duke grabs hold of his collar. Jimmy stutters, his voice shaking, “I-I found it the o-other d-day when I was cleaning. I-I, well, maybe I-I thought you m-might like it to be in a place you could see it.” 

The slap when it comes isn’t as surprising as it should have been. Jimmy lets out a cry, his hand flying up to his face. The Duke practically throws him out of the library. He stumbles away, tears forming in his eyes. _Don’t cry, Jimmy. Don’t cry._

**PHILIP**

He smashes the photograph against the wall and sinks onto the sofa. He takes a deep breath and presses his face into his hands. _Good old Uncle Philly. You always know how to get to me._ It’s almost funny. But, Philip knows it’s a warning, in a twisted sort of way. Philly will be haunting him tonight and Philip dreads the impending nightfall. There’s nothing he can do to avoid it, so he’ll just simmer in his anger all alone. He’s always felt safest in the library, Philly had never liked to read anyway so Philip had always been able to hide there if he wanted to be by himself.

He stays in the library all day and loses himself in other people’s lives. He almost forgets about his anger at Thomas, at the little blonde footman who’s probably crying in Thomas’s arms. He almost forgets about the ghosts of Uncle Philly and the red-haired boy whose name he’d rather not think of. He takes his dinner in there too, but he doesn’t really eat too much. He considers getting drunk, but it doesn’t matter. They’ll get to him either way. And he’d rather stay sober because he’d like to have as much control as he can, even if it’s only a little bit. It’s late by the time his paradise is disturbed. 

Latham appears almost out of thin air and speaks gently, “It’s quite late Your Grace. I think it’s best we got you up to bed.”

Philip stands slowly, nodding in resignation, “I can take care of myself tonight Latham, you can turn in if you’d like.”

“Are you sure Your Grace? You’ll be alright?” Latham may not be kind to everyone, but he has always been kind to Philip. Always.

“I’ll be alright.” That’s a lie, a blatant lie and he’s sure Latham knows, but neither say anything as they move into the dimly lit foyer. Philip begins to climb the stairs, but stops when Latham clears his throat. He turns back around, “Yes?”

“Will you be wanting Thomas tonight? I’ve sent everyone to bed, but it wouldn’t be too much trouble to fetch him.”

 _No, I don’t want him. Not tonight. I just want to go to sleep. To go to sleep and dream of nothing._ “I’ll fetch him myself if I need to. Thank you, Latham.” He turns on his heel and ascends the staircase, each step bringing him closer to the waking nightmare that awaits him.

Philip’s bedroom is well-lit and he thanks God that Latham must have come up before to do it. He still hates the room though, all red and gold, filled with plush, decadent furniture and ornate decorations. His dressing gown is laid on the bed and he sheds his clothes as quickly as he can, pulling the robe on. He sits on the bed facing the large mirror. His chest is tight and it’s hard to breathe. He rubs his eyes. The lights flicker, the room is almost plunged into darkness. 

And when they flicker on again, Philip sees him in the mirror. He’s standing behind Philip, slouched against the bed, that same devilish grin on his face, his eyes dark and flashing. Philip doesn’t need to turn around to see if he’s really there. He can feel the cold rush of air and smell his cologne. Yes, it’s Uncle Philly in all his glory. Back from the dead to fuck with Philip’s mind again.

“Oh don’t look so shocked. You knew I’d be here,” The voice is the same, lilting and taunting. 

“You’re not real,” Philip spits this out through gritted teeth.

“No, I suppose I’m not. But, I still get to you just the same, don’t I darling?”

Philip curls his hands into fists, pushing his nails into his palms, “No. No, you don’t.”

Philip doesn’t turn around, just stares into the mirror and watches as Philly moves closer, “Ah but I do. Look at you, you can barely contain yourself. Why don’t you yell or throw something, break something. You ruined that photograph of me today. I must say I was quite hurt.”

“God, why can’t you just leave me be? Please just leave me be.” Philip shuts his eyes, but he feels cold air against his neck and he knows Philly is close to him now, too close.

“Leave you be? Where’s the fun in that?” Philip’s dressing gown slides off his shoulder and he feels a cold weight against it, nails boring into him, Philly’s nails.

Philip jerks away trying to escape Philly’s hand, “Get off! Don’t touch me!”

“Why? When it brings back so many pleasant memories?” 

Philip squeezes his eyes shut, tight. He doesn’t open them until the hand is off his shoulder. Philly’s back where he appeared leaning against the wall.

“So you’ve brought back a new boy then? To replace the one who had that unfortunate, hmmm, how should I put this...fall from grace, quite literally I might add,” Philip opens his mouth to yell, but Philly keeps going, “Don’t lose your head I was only joking. What’s the new boy like? Quiet? Innocent? Meek?”

Philip shakes his head and mutters, “No. Not at all.”

“Oh, I see. Quite the opposite then?” Philip doesn’t respond and it seems like Philly takes his silence as a yes, “ So he’s got a mouth on him then? A wild one, ay? Doesn’t always do as he’s told? Sounds a bit like you when I first found you. He’ll be a challenge, then.”

Philip looks away, he grips onto the bed covers, trying to control himself. Philly laughs a mischievous, cruel laugh.

“If all I’ve just said is true, I’d love to get my hands on him.”

Philip jumps to his feet, whirling around towards Philly, “Well you won’t. You can’t and I would never let you even if you could.”

“God I wouldn’t hurt him any worse than you will. You’ve gone soft though, my little Philip. Trying to protect this boy, it’s like you care for him. I thought you were strong, you were always so adamant that I didn’t ruin you.” 

Philip’s hand curls around a vase, “Shut up, Philly. Just shut up!”

But Philly doesn’t, “You’re so weak now, darling. It looks like I did break you after all.”

Philip turns hurling the vase in Philly’s direction. It hits the wall and shatters. Philly is gone. Leaving Philip angry and raving and weakened. Like always.

For a moment Philip thinks about giving in and admitting that Philly is right. _No. You don’t need to give in. This is what you have Thomas for. To prove to yourself that you’re still strong enough to control and dominate and fuck the spirit out of someone._

He’ll have to fetch Thomas himself. If he plays his cards right he can make his way through the maze of secret corridors and find the door that leads straight into Thomas’s room. He lights a candle and quietly slips into his dressing room. He pushes back some of his clothes and unbolts the door that was hidden. 

The door to Thomas’s room is easier to find then he remembers, but it’s only been a few months after all. He opens it quietly, not wanting to wake Thomas. It opens into the closet like always, but the closet’s mostly empty. He steps out, shutting the door behind him. The lights are still on and Thomas isn’t in bed. In fact, the door is open and he’s not in the room at all, someone else is. 

“Rodney?” Philip whispers loudly and the boy spins around, away from the dresser.

“Your Grace! I’m so sorry” Rodney steps towards the hallway, motioning towards the book in his hand, “I came to get this. He borrowed it months ago. Never returned it.”

Philip knows who he’s talking about, so he just nods. Rodney speaks again, “I suppose you’ve come looking for Thomas.”

Philip sighs, shrugging, “Where is he? Clearly he’s not in here.”

Rodney motions towards the hall and Philip moves to the doorway, Rodney points to a door across the hall. It’s open, just slightly, and a soft glow pours from it. “He’s in there, me an’ Jimmy’s room.”

Philip can hear laughter, quiet and muffled. His anger grows and threatens to spill out. Thomas is supposed to do as he’s told. And there he is across the hall, blatantly disobeying Philip. “Get him for me. Now.”

Rodney shrugs, “Alright, don’t be so angry though. S’not like they’re doin’ anything wrong. Just playing cards is all.” But, he goes to his room anyway and opens the door a little, leaning in. Philip can’t hear what he says, but Thomas emerges only seconds later and crosses the hall. He stops dead in the doorway when he sees Philip.

“What’re you doing here?” Thomas says in an accusatory tone. 

“Well, there’s no need to be rude. Not after I’ve been kind enough to bring you here,” Philip goes to the closet and pushes open the secret door, “Now come with me. This will bring us straight into my dressing room.”

Thomas closes his bedroom door and runs his hand atop the dresser, avoiding eye contact. “I think I’ll stay here tonight. I’m tired and you’ve ignored me all day, so I’d rather just go to bed.”

“I think you’ll find it’s in your best interest to do as I say.”

Thomas laughs. Actually laughs. “I don’t know what Rodney said, but all me and Jimmy were doing was playing cards. So if that’s what you’re so angry about, you’ve got no reason to be.”

Philip grabs Thomas’s wrist, “I’m not joking around, darling. You came here to be my lover and if you don’t hold up your end of the deal...Well, I’m sure the streets of London will be very welcoming.”

Thomas grunts, his gray eyes stormy and mutters, “I hate you.” But, he follows Philip into the dark corridor all the same. By the time they reach the bedroom, Philip’s anger has settled, but only just. He still feels the need to prove his strength, both to himself and to Philly, whose nagging voice is still cutting through his thoughts. 

Thomas seems to have forgotten his own anger, as he looks around the room in awe. Philip doesn’t give him time to say anything though. “Alright, Thomas. Get undressed.”

Thomas glares at him, “Oh God! We haven’t even been here a full minute.”

“Well, I thought it would be best to hurry things up since you’re so tired and all.”

Thomas flops onto the bed, pouting, “We can’t just rush through it. S’not how you make love.”

Philip laughs, taking pride in how unsuspecting Thomas is, “Well I won’t be making love to you. I’m going to fuck you, darling. Fuck you hard into the mattress.”

Thomas sits up, frowning, “No, Philip. I told you I only like it if it doesn’t hurt. I like it to be gentle.”

Philip rolls his eyes, “Good God Thomas! You can’t always have your way. You had it all through London, it’s my turn now. Or are you too scared?”

Thomas glares at Philip. When he speaks it’s slow and drawn out, “No…” He juts his chin up and pouts even more, “I can take it.”

“Get undressed then.”

And Thomas does. He sheds all of his clothes and lies back on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows. Philip looks him up and down, drinking in the sight before him. Thomas’s milky pale body contrasts beautifully with the deep red of the bedcovers. Philip suddenly feels an overwhelming urge to be gentle, to take Thomas into his arms. _Like you used to want to do with Jas- No, Philip. Don’t get like this, don’t get soft._

It’s almost like Thomas knows the effect he has on Philip. For he looks up at him through his dark eyelashes, his eyes widened and his red mouth parted ever so slightly.

But, Philip won’t give in, he can’t. Instead, he shoves Thomas roughly and says, “Get yourself ready.”

Thomas pushes himself back up, narrowing his eyes, “Well I haven’t got anything.”

“You’ve got that pretty mouth of yours. Use your spit.”

Thomas sighs and slowly brings his fingers to his mouth beginning to suck. Philip unties his robe, letting it fall to the floor as Thomas penetrates himself with his index finger, inhaling sharply. Philip watches as he adds a second finger, stretching himself further. He goes to add a third, but Philip grabs his wrist stopping him. Thomas looks up, confusion clouding his lovely face.

“That’s enough. I’m impatient as it is.”

Thomas tries to pull away, but Philip holds tight. Thomas grits his teeth, “I’m not ready Philip. I need one more.”

“No, darling. You’re ready when I say you’re ready.”

Thomas stops struggling but remains unconvinced. “But it will hurt.”

“Good. Now think about it, Thomas? Do you really want to resist me? Are you really that scared?” Philip knows this is the sure way to win, Thomas will never want to admit to cowardice.

He’s right, of course, Thomas lies back, spreading his legs in resignation. Philip is ready, hard, and aching. Thomas is hardening too, despite his less than enthusiastic demeanor. 

Philip climbs onto the bed, attempting to roll Thomas onto his front. Much to his annoyance, Thomas resists. _Oh, he is going to be quite the challenge. He’s going to be tough to break for sure. But I can do it. I’ve done it before._

Thomas clings to the blankets refusing to budge. Philip simply grins, cocks an eyebrow, and says, “Afraid?”

And Thomas gives in, spitting out his consent like before. “I can take it.”

Philip flips Thomas over and pins his arms above his head. He kneels on Thomas’s legs, keeping them spread apart and drives inside of him with full force. Thomas screams into the pillows, “Oh God Philip! You’re hurting me! It hurts!”

In response, Philip leans down, sinking his teeth into Thomas’s shoulder. He trails his teeth up to Thomas’s ear and whispers, “Giving up?”

Thomas freezes, but he repeats his little phrase through gritted teeth, “I can take it.”

“If you say so,” and Philip pulls all the way out and slams all the way in, scratching his nails down Thomas’s back. Thomas bucks his hips into the air and gasps out scream like sobs. Philip keeps going, each thrust more brutal than the last. He closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them he swears he sees Philly out of the corner of his eye, slouched against the wall, watching. Philip bites his tongue and slams himself into Thomas as hard as he can. 

Roughly Philip flips him onto his back, saying, “Touch yourself”. Thomas complies and Philip thrusts in time with Thomas’s pumps. Thomas comes, strangled gasps escaping his lips. Philip rolls him back over and pushes Thomas’s face down into the pillows, one hand grabbing a fistful of jet black hair and the other gripping onto his hips. His rhythm falters and he comes with a final shuddering thrust, eliciting one final cry from Thomas. Philip pulls out and rolls away. Thomas doesn’t move. He just lays there, face pressed into the pillows, shoulders shaking.

Philip stands up, pulling on his robe. Thomas slowly props himself up, his face is flushed and his eyes are wet. He turns to Philip, his expression almost accusatory. He speaks quietly, his voice raw, “Where’re you going? Aren’t you going to hold me?”

Philip almost laughs, but he holds it in. “No. You’re going to clean yourself up and find your way back to your room.”

Thomas shakes his head, his voice breaking, “No, Philip. Let me stay. Please. Let me fall asleep with you. I’ll go first thing in the morning. Just hold me, please.”

And Philip does, pushing Philly’s teasing voice to the back of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's the third chapter! I think we will be learning more about Jason and Philly in the next chapter, but I'm just starting it so I'm not quite sure where it'll end up going. Anyways please leave a kudos and comment! I love to hear feedback :)


	4. such harsh words from such pretty lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas wonders whether or not he made the right decision in coming to Crowborough and does some things without thinking. Philip has an annoying visitor. Jimmy pines for Thomas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So basically this chapter took me forever and it's a little bit all over the place, but oh well (I'm kind of just making things up as I go along and seeing where it takes me). Trigger warning for domestic violence and also a sort of one-sided fistfight. I think that's about it. I did say there was going to be more about the ghosts, but I think I'm saving that for the next chapter. So enjoy this update!

**THOMAS**

Thomas wakes up before Philip. It’s nice because, for a few minutes, he can try and convince himself that last night happened differently then he remembers it. That it was gentle and sweet and beautiful, not the rough, ugly fuck that it actually was. It doesn’t work, because he’s sore. Also because he catches a glimpse of his body in the mirror as he gets dressed and sees the angry red scratches on his back and the purple bruises blooming on his hips. He decides he needs a cigarette and quietly opens the top drawer of Philip’s dresser hoping he might find one. It’s a nasty habit, but he picked it up three years ago, when he was just fourteen, and he’s got no intention of stopping now.

He comes across the photo completely accidentally and it shocks him. Again it’s a photo of Jason, the ghost in his room. This time he’s by himself, his face undeniably pretty, his eyes downcast and sad. Thomas wonders if the photo was there before or if it has just now manifested itself. He only saw Jason that first night, but he hasn’t stopped thinking about him since.

The sheets rustle and Philip’s voice, surprisingly sharp for someone who just woke up, cuts through the air, “Do you need something Thomas? Or have you simply been entertaining yourself by rifling through my personal objects?”

Thomas turns around, holding Jason’s photo behind his back, “I was looking for a cigarette.”

Philip props himself up, smirking, “So what’s that you’re hiding from me? Oh, don’t be shy, darling. Come, sit.” He pats the empty area beside him, “Show me. Now, Thomas. Don’t test my patience.”

Thomas closes the distance and gingerly perches on the bed, tentatively placing the photo in Philip’s outstretched hand, “I just found it, I was going to put it back.”

Philip looks at the photo and although the smile never leaves his face, Thomas catches the slightest change in his eyes. Whether it’s anger, sadness, or both, he’s unsure. Philip laughs, but it’s almost cold. “This isn’t a cigarette. He was quite lovely though, wasn’t he?” 

Philip hands the photo back to Thomas. He takes it and remains silent, staring at Jason’s sad eyes. Philip leans over and pinches Thomas’s arm.

“Don’t be jealous darling,” He reaches up, his hand cupping Thomas’s chin, “You’re quite lovely yourself.” The kiss he presses on Thomas’s lips is surprisingly gentle and sweet.

When they pull away, the question just falls out of Thomas’s mouth. “Why’d you have a picture of Jason anyway?”

Thomas curses himself for not thinking, but Philip doesn’t bat an eye, “Jason, hmmm. So you were familiar then?”

“No...Well, I-I mean, I…” Thomas trails off for he doesn’t quite know what to say.  _ Yes, Philip. Quite familiar. He appeared in this awful dream I had. And when I woke up, he was standing above me. Well, his ghost was anyway.  _ Instead, he just mumbles, “I saw him.”

“Where? Oh, do tell?”

“Just a photograph.” Philip seems to know that there is more to the story, but he doesn’t press. Instead Thomas repeats his first question, “Why’d you have his picture?”

“Well, I suppose I cared for him. He was my valet before you.”

“ ‘Cept I’m not really a valet am I? And neither was he, huh?”

“You catch on fast, don’t you darling? But, I must confess you’re right”

Philip tries to pull Thomas to his chest, but Thomas resists, glaring. He can’t help feeling betrayed.  _ You lied to me. You manipulated me. I trusted you. No. I still trust you. I still like you very much and that’s the problem.  _ He doesn’t say anything though and when Philip tries to pull him down again, this time his hands rough and commanding, Thomas gives in. He sinks down, lying on Philip’s chest.

He mumbles quietly against Philip’s skin, “What was he then? What am I going to be?”

“He was my lover. My little pet, my toy. Like you are now.”

“I don’t like that.”

Philip narrows his eyes, “What? That I had a lover before you?” That’s not what Thomas means, but Philip keeps going, “There was plenty before him, but he was different. And you know what? I expect you will be too.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The ones before, my passion for them burned out quickly. With Jason, it wasn’t like that. And well, perhaps it won’t be like that with you. But I guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?

“So he got bored with you then?” Thomas smirks at Philip, trying to make him snap. He doesn’t know why he does it, but he has played games like this forever.

Philip doesn’t get mad, though. Perhaps he has caught onto Thomas’s game. “I think you’ll find that no one gets bored with me. I simply don’t allow that.”

He’s unsatisfied with Philip’s reaction, so he only presses more, “Well he must have. Otherwise, he wouldn’t ‘ave took up with Rodney. Or did you not know that?”

“Thomas, do you take me for a fool? Of course, I knew. You see Jason was growing very disenchanted with life. So I tolerated it. I had too. But don’t get me wrong, I was furious. I could have killed them both. So don’t you get any ideas, you’re mine and mine alone.”

Philip squeezes Thomas’s shoulder. Thomas doesn’t want his touch, but he doesn’t pull away. “Why didn’t you fire Rodney, then? He’s a prick anyway.”

“I think he’s got to warm up to you. Remember you're replacing his beloved Jason. I keep him because I need him. He’s not my type, but he’s quite popular at parties.”

Thomas presses his face into Philip’s chest, accepting the answer, though he’s still bloody confused. They lie in silence for a moment, before Thomas whispers faintly.

“Will you get bored with me?”

“Well, I suppose that depends on what you do. You’ll have to decide for yourself how to keep me interested.”

Thomas doesn’t know what he expected, but Philip’s words hurt him. He sits up, freeing himself from Philip’s grasp, and turns away. He knows he’s going to cry, a lump is forming in his throat and the tears are beginning to well. 

Philip only laughs, calmly reclining on the pillows. “What, darling? Not what you wanted to hear?” Then he notices Thomas’s tears.

“Oh God. Don’t cry, Thomas. You’re always throwing your feelings into the open. You shouldn’t do that.”

Thomas wipes his eyes, forcing a laugh. “You sound like my father.”  _ Don’t be weak, Thomas. You cry too often, it’s your mother’s fault. She made you soft. Keep it up and I’ll make you cry even harder.  _

“Is that a good thing?”

Thomas shakes his head, hastily. “No. He hated me.” He would have done anything to gain his father’s affection, but nothing worked. And eventually, he started to hate himself too. 

“Were you scared of him?”

“No. And I’m not scared of you either.” Both lies. He was terrified of his father even if he pretended not to be. He’s only slightly scared of Philip, the hidden part of him, which flashes through his eyes turning them dark.

That darkness appears now, as Philip smiles and says, “I wouldn’t count on that. Maybe there’s more to me than you know.” The darkness dissolves as he breaks into laughter and says, “You should get to breakfast. You’re late.”

As Thomas stands, he wonders whether he knows Philip at all.

**JIMMY**

Jimmy knows it’s wrong. He knows he shouldn’t. But he can’t stop thinking about Thomas. It only makes it worse that Thomas doesn’t show up for breakfast. Again no one says anything, as if to everyone else it’s normal, leaving Jimmy to speculate in silence. Thomas doesn’t appear for at least an hour. It’s just Jimmy and the three other boys in the dining room. They all look up when Thomas comes in. His hair is mussed, his clothes thrown on seemingly in a hurry. He’s limping too, just slightly. 

Rodney raises an eyebrow at this and mumbles something under his breath that sounds like, “Well, he didn’t waste any time.”

Thomas doesn’t sit. He leans against the wall and pulls out a cigarette. Then he breaks the silence, “Jimmy? Have you got a light?”

Jimmy doesn’t and he feels like he should because of course, Thomas would ask him. He’s the only one who has really shown any kindness to Thomas so far. But, he just shakes his head and says, “No I haven’t…” he trails off for a minute before adding, “But, Rodney might, huh Rodney?”

Rodney glares at Jimmy, but reaches into his pocket and pulls out a lighter. He turns it and holds it out towards Thomas. It’s clear that Rodney has no intention of getting up and Thomas has to walk slowly over to him. Jimmy can tell he’s trying not to limp. 

The other boys seem to have noticed too because as Thomas lights his cigarette, Edgar blurts out, “How’d you hurt your leg then?” 

Thomas just backs up, “I-I, uh, well…” He gives up, trailing off. Oliver and Edgar dissolve into laughter. Thomas’s face flushes red.

Rodney tips his chair back and says, “Ay, mate. Don’t be rude. Why would you ask him that-” Rodney pauses and a mischievous smile spreads across his face as he speaks again, “We all know what was going on in His Grace’s room. The walls aren’t as thick as you think.”

Oliver and Edgar laugh even harder and Rodney joins in. Thomas’s mouth hangs open, his pale face having turned a deep crimson. He pushes past the others and runs from the room. Jimmy is on his feet, following Thomas into the hallway before he can even think. He hangs back in the doorway when Thomas steps into the courtyard and watches as Thomas sinks to the ground, bringing his knees to his chest. 

He looks up as Jimmy steps out. He’s surprisingly pulled together, but his face is still flushed and the cigarette is turning to ash in his shaking hand, “It wasn’t funny,” it’s not an accusation, just a statement.

“I know. I didn’t think that it was.” Jimmy slides down as he says this, sitting close against Thomas.

Thomas grinds out his cigarette, twisting it against the ground, “So everyone knows then? What I am? They knew I wasn’t going to be a valet, didn’t they?”

Jimmy sighs, “Yeah, I s’pose they did. I didn’t though, but then Rodney said that you, that you belonged to His Grace which was why-”  _ Which was why I couldn’t have you _ , “Well, I guess I just put the pieces together, but-” He trails off, for there are still a million things he doesn’t understand.

Thomas just scoffs and buries his face in his hands. “So everyone knew before me,” He picks his head up, shaking it, “God, I am so bloody stupid.” He falls silent, but only for a minute, “Was Rodney telling the truth about being able to hear me an’-”

“No.”

Thomas looks away and whispers, “He hurt me you know.”

Jimmy knows enough to understand that Thomas isn’t talking about Rodney. He just nods and puts a hand on Thomas’s shoulder. Then he adds, “You shouldn’t listen to Rodney. I don’t know why he’s been so awful to you.”

Thomas bites his lip, fiddling with his pant sleeve, “I do. I don’t blame him, though. I don’t think that I should be here.”

“Where would you go?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t have anywhere to go. I’ve got no one, nothing. I’m stuck, Jimmy. And then again I don’t know if I want to leave him. I just don’t know what to do.”

Thomas seems like he’s about to cry. Jimmy doesn’t say anything, just reaches down and takes Thomas’s hand. Thomas seems shocked, but he doesn’t pull away. In fact, he slides closer to Jimmy and rests his head on Jimmy’s shoulder.  _ This is wrong, Jimmy. Listen to Rodney. He’s not yours and he never will be. This is wrong.  _ Yet he doesn’t move away.

They stay like that for a moment, but Jimmy lets go of Thomas’s hand and slides away. He stands up brushing himself off, “I’m going back. Are you coming in?”

Thomas shakes his head, “I’m going to stay here for a while. Why would I want to go back in with them?”

Jimmy feels bad for asking. It was stupid. Obviously Thomas wouldn’t want to come back. Jimmy never says the right thing. To be fair he hasn’t had much experience when it comes to talking to boys. He really only ever had Sam. Of course, Sam had initiated everything and Jimmy had been so absolutely enamored, he’d just followed along. And then Sam had broken his heart and Jimmy had vowed to never fall in love. But, it’s happening again. Jimmy is becoming enamored with Thomas, the boy he can’t possibly have, like a stupid fool.

Things have calmed down when he steps back into the dining room. Rodney is smoking a cigarette and reading the newspaper. Oliver and Edgar are playing cards. Clearly Latham must still be dressing the Duke because otherwise, the boys would actually be doing their jobs. Nobody looks up when Jimmy comes in.

Rodney blows out a smoke ring and says, “So he’s off sobbing like a girl, huh?” This provokes a laugh from both Oliver and Edgar.

Jimmy sits down, glaring at Rodney. “No. It wasn’t funny though.”

Oliver cuts in, looking pointedly at Jimmy, “Yes it bloody was.”

Jimmy glares at him, too. “No. Not really. It wasn’t right to say that stuff about knowing what happened if it was a lie.”

Rodney laughs, closing the newspaper, “It wasn’t a lie. It were true, weren’t it?” This sends the group into another fit of laughter.

Jimmy just sighs, shaking his head, “Yes, but-”

Edgar cuts him off, sharply, “God Jimmy, it’s almost like you're sweet on him, with the way you're carrying on.”

Jimmy freezes. He doesn’t know what to say. He shoots Rodney a panicked look. Rodney rolls his eyes, but stands up and crushes his cigarette out. “Yeah well, there's not a chance of that, ay Jimmy?” Jimmy barely nods before Rodney continues, “We should get to work before Mr. Latham finds us.”

Jimmy follows Rodney out into the hallway. He makes sure Oliver and Edgar are still sitting and then whispers, “Why are you so mean to Thomas? You’re like him, too, you know.”

“God Jimmy. Don’t insult me. I’m not like him at all. He’s an idiotic little whore. Besides, I only ever give. I never take, especially not from a madman prick like His Grace.” And with that he hurries off leaving Jimmy, standing alone, Rodney’s hurtful words replaying in his mind.

He’s right though, about the Duke, that is. Jimmy’s face has the slightest hint of a bruise and he can’t get the Duke’s eyes, crazed and dark, out of his head. 

The day drags on and Thomas hides away, busying himself with tasks that let him be alone. It’s late in the afternoon and Jimmy still hasn’t got a chance to talk to him. Thomas is still plaguing Jimmy’s thoughts. He’s been polishing silver for at least an hour and he’s caught up in a very extensive daydream fantasy.

_ We’re so completely in love. Nothing and nobody will ever come between us. We’re happy, just the two of us and we’ve got a place of our own. I’ll play the piano, he’ll dance. And then we’ll hold each other and just talk until we fall asleep. _

Of course, it’s an absolutely ridiculous idea. First, they’d have to be free of His Grace and Rodney. Well, maybe not free of Rodney because he’s truly the best friend Jimmy’s ever had, but he’ll have to be nice to Thomas. They’d have to be in a place free of hate, where they could go about their lives together without the fear of being found out. And that’s simply impossible. They can’t leave Crowborough, neither of them have got a place to go. Besides, Thomas is probably oblivious to Jimmy's feelings.

Rodney pushes open the door already talking, shaking Jimmy out of his thoughts, “Well, he’s havin’ guests for tea, of course, he didn’t think to tell us until the last moment. So we’ll all need to be up there or somethin’. I wasn’t really paying attention to Latham.”

Rodney pauses, out of breath, giving Jimmy a moment to get a word in. “I suppose we should go up.”

Rodney rolls his eyes and nods, “It’s that bloody Lord Howard. He’s a god awful prick.”

It’s Jimmy’s turn to roll his eyes, “You say that about everyone.”

Rodney winks, “I only say it when it’s true.”

**PHILIP**

Merrill Howard is a god awful prick. Philip knows that’s not a proper thing to say, but hey, his thoughts are his and his alone and he’ll think whatever he damn well pleases. Especially if it’s the truth. He can barely muster any enthusiasm now as he greets Merrill and the guests he’s dragged along.

“Philip!”  _ Of course, how true to character, skipping formalities and all. _

But, Philip fakes a smile and takes his hand, exclaiming “Merrill! How lovely.” He pretends to listen as Merrill introduces the people he’s brought, two women and a man, who look terribly boring.

Merrill confirms Philip’s suspicions because when they’re walking to the drawing-room, he leans close, a little too close, and whispers into Philip’s ear, “Friends of the family. I told them where I was going and they said that they simply had to meet you. But, perhaps we can find time to sneak away into the library later.”

Philip only nods, keeping the smile pasted onto his face. He’s known Merrill for ten years, Merrill was Uncle Philly’s friend first after all. And Merrill wasn’t Philip’s friend in the beginning. That was how it was with all of Philly’s friends. It wasn’t until Philly died and Philip had inherited when Philip had gone from the one being used to the one doing the using. Only then did Uncle Philly’s friends, Merrill included, begin to treat Philip like a human being.

Merrill just really gets on Philip’s nerves. He always has. Maybe part of it is that Merrill seems to think so highly of himself. Like he’s God’s gift to the world. He’s not ugly, but he certainly isn’t beautiful. In fact, he’s sort of average, his face stretched a little too wide and his eyes a little too small. He’s got blonde hair and he’s rather tall and very rugged, which does make him stand out, though not in a particularly good way. He looks almost like he’s better suited to be a farmer than a Lord. Part of it is also that Merrill is so incredibly outspoken. He talks too loud and is always telling jokes that aren’t funny, it’s almost as if he’s trying to paint himself as a nice person, but Philip knows better. Merrill is truly a downright prick. He’s also prone to cause a scene or pull a stunt when he gets bored, which happens all too quickly.

It’s only been twenty minutes and Philip can tell that Merrill's getting bored now. The others are chattering away, lost in their own incessant conversation. 

Merrill turns to Philip, picking up his tea. A crooked smile spreads across his face and he takes a sip, eyeing Philip over the rim of his teacup. He sets it down and leans back against the sofa, crossing his leg and clasping his hands across his chest.

“So, Philip. I heard you brought a lovely new stallion home from London.” Merrill says this loudly, loud enough for anyone in the room to hear if they’re listening. And Philip knows that someone’s always listening.

So he leans in and hisses at Merrill, “Don’t be so loud.” 

Merrill laughs and says, “Why not? They don’t know what we’re talking about. Are you really that scared?”

Philip doesn’t like to be teased. Also, it’s true, the chance that the other three will guess that they aren’t really talking about horses is quite slim. So Philip leans back and laughs, “Not at all.”

Merrill smirks, “So tell me about him. What’s it’s color? It’s temperament?”

“Well…” Philip draws this out, so as to keep Merrill entertained, “He’s quite stunning. His coat is milky white. It’s so incredibly soft and smooth. And his mane, it’s jet black and shiny.”

Merrill closes his eyes, seemingly forming a picture in his mind, “That must make quite the contrast. I must say he does sound absolutely lovely.”

“He most definitely is,” Philip nods in agreement, he has to admit it’s a bit fun, flirting with the danger of being found out, if someone is smart enough to catch on, that is. “But he’s got a rather wild streak to him. He doesn’t seem to like to be told what to do or to do as he’s told.”

At this, Merrill raises an eyebrow, his interest peaked, “So you’re having trouble then, showing him who’s boss.”

Philip is starting to change his mind. He’s not sure he likes where the conversation is going, with the way Merrill is leaning in and licking his lips. But he agrees with Merrill anyway, “Yes. I suppose I am. He’s just very skeptical, not very well trained.”

“Well, why don’t you let me try him out? Perhaps I could be helpful in his training.”

This is what Philip was afraid of. Of course, he’s used to passing around his toys, but it’s always on his own terms. “I’m not sure. It might be too soon.”

“Oh god, I don’t mean today! Besides…” Merrill leans forward speaking quietly, “You owe me. I found you your beloved chestnut stallion. It’s your turn to give me a little taste.”

Philip sighs in resignation, “Fine.”

Merrill leans back again, smiling his crooked smile, “Then it’s settled. You are still throwing that party soon?”

Philip only nods and Merrill exclaims, “Excellent. What do you say you and I slip away to discuss it further?”

“Why not?”

Merrill turns, motioning to Rodney, “You, Rodney is it? His Grace and I are going to discuss some business in the library. Would you make sure those three remain occupied while we’re gone?”

Rodney nods and says, “ Of course, my Lord.”

Merrill stands and Philip follows, albeit grudgingly.

**THOMAS**

Thomas is sitting in the dining hall. It’s empty because the others are all upstairs serving tea. He’ll run upstairs the moment they're done. He can’t take any more embarrassment today. But it seems that the world is against him because the moment this thought crosses his mind, Rodney appears, cigarette in hand, slouched against the doorway.

Thomas only glares at him, “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

Rodney takes a drag and sidles into the room, “Well I am allowed a break, from time to time.”

Thomas stands, ready to dash up to his room, “I’ll leave you to it then.”

He’s almost in the hallway, when Rodney speaks again, “He’s talking about you, you know.”

Thomas stops in the doorway. Slowly, carefully, he turns around. “Who is?”

Rodney scoffs, “Philip.” His tone is mocking and almost babyish. 

“What’s he saying? Who’s he talking to?” Thomas hates that he sounds so desperate, but he knows Rodney would only bring something like this up if it was going to upset him.

“Well…” Rodney drawls slowly, enjoying Thomas’s anticipation, “He was talking to Lord Howard. He swings our way of course.”

Thomas is surprised Rodney says  _ our  _ way, at the ease in which it slides out of Rodney’s mouth. He supposes that no matter their differences, they will always have that one thing connecting them and there’s no point in denying that. But still, he doesn’t think Rodney is trying to be nice.

“Well, he was sayin’ he brought back a new stallion. From the way he described it, you could tell he was talkin’ about you.”

“What did he say though?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Just that you were wild and that you didn’t behave. And they were making plans, him and that Lord.”

“Plans for what?”

“Well, for Lord Howard to take you for...you know, a ride. I can’t say I’m jealous of you with the things I’ve heard about him.” Rodney smiles at Thomas, tilting his chair back.

Thomas’s anger only grows. He’s not an object, not a little toy, that can be displayed and shared whenever Philip pleases. He clenches his jaw and balls his hands into fists. He can feel his face flushing red as he turns towards Rodney, “He doesn’t get to say things like that about me. He doesn’t own me.”

Rodney shrugs, “I think what you have to realize is that he sort of does.”

Thomas isn’t going to admit to that, not to Rodney, not to Philip, not to anyone. Philip doesn’t own him. He doesn’t. He doesn’t. But the more Thomas repeats it in his head he becomes less sure and his anger grows. “He doesn’t get to do that to me. To talk about me like I’m just an object.”

Rodney only laughs, exhaling a cloud of smoke. He looks Thomas square in the eyes and says, “Why don’t you tell him then?”

Thomas just stares at Rodney, shocked. “What?”

Rodney rolls his eyes, “Go up an tell him what you just told me. He’s by himself in the library, you won’t be interrupting.”

Thomas stutters, unsure, and still angry, “B-but I can’t do that.”

“Why not? You said he doesn’t own you. You can do whatever you like. If you’re brave enough.”

“I’m going up then.” Thomas isn’t thinking. Well, maybe he sort of is. There’s a little voice telling him not to, but his anger, his embarrassment, and his pride are louder, much louder.

He’s upstairs and outside of the library before he even realizes he started walking. 

And he pushes open the doors, words already spilling out as he strides in, “Philip! Don’t you dare talk about me like you have been, calling me your stallion, and acting like I’m just some toy that can be passed arou-”

He cuts himself off abruptly when he realizes that Philip is not alone in the room. There’s another man, a broad-shouldered blonde, probably the Lord Howard, Rodney was talking about. Both he and Philip are turned to look at Thomas, clearly, they had been in the middle of a conversation. Lord Howard looks greatly amused. Philip less so.

Philip narrows his eyes and speaks through gritted teeth, “Are you quite finished then?”

Thomas freezes, he’s blushing again, he’s sure his mouth is hanging open. But, he won’t be caught off guard, he can’t. So he takes a breath and says, “No. I’m not. Because you’ve been an absolute downright prick to me since you came back. And I swear to God I’ll bloody leave you, Philip. I bloody will. And you-” He pivots towards Lord Howard, “Whatever you’ve been planning with him, don’t bother just don’t. I’m not going to get into bed with him. Why would I want to? Look at him.” He stops there, flushes, and out of breath.

Philip doesn’t say anything just stares stonily at Thomas. Lord Howard laughs and then applauds, actually applauds, “That,” he says, a crooked smile spreading across his face, “was quite the performance. Philip, how did you not mention the mouth on this boy?”

Thomas looks between Philip and the lord, completely and utterly confused. Philip seems to have regained his composure, “I suppose it must have slipped my mind.” He’s trying to sound casual, but Thomas can tell it’s forced.

“Well it’s absolutely marvelous,” Lord Howard stands as he says this. He towers over Thomas and it’s intimidating, though Thomas hates to admit it. 

Lord Howard’s eyes rake over him and Thomas glares. “Don’t look at me you, bloody pervert.”

Howard only steps forward, moving close in front of Thomas. “It’s amazing really, how such harsh words can come from such pretty lips,” He raises his hand and strokes Thomas’s cheek, Thomas slaps his hand away. Lord Howard laughs, “So you’re quite the wild one then.” He turns to Philip, “It seems like you’ll be needing my help after all.”

Philip nods and for a second Thomas swears he sees sadness flash through Philip’s eyes. But it’s gone just as quickly, replaced with cold darkness, as Philip looks from Thomas to Lord Howard and says, “Yes it seems like I will.”

Thomas steps back, looking to Philip, “No. He” Thomas points to Lord Howard, “He is not going to fuck me.”

The lord laughs, “I don’t know that you really have a choice.”

Thomas turns to Philip, he can feel a panicked look spreading across his face. Philip smirks, “Relax, Thomas. Nothings happening today. Besides, it's time for you to leave us. Don’t go too far, sit and wait outside the room like a good boy.”

His tone is light and joking, but Thomas sees that look in Philip’s eyes, and it makes him turn and leave without a word. He shuts the door behind himself and collapses onto a sofa against the wall. He pushes his head into his hands.  _ Don’t think, Thomas. Don’t think about how you just made such a fool of yourself. _

**PHILIP**

The door closes behind Thomas and all Philip can think is how idiotic he was to burst in and pull a stunt like that. 

Merrill only proves this by sighing, “God I cannot wait to help you break him down.”

_ See Thomas? See what you’ve gotten yourself into? You’ve really dug yourself in deep, I’m not going to help you, not after you embarrassed me like that.  _

Merrill keeps going, his plan beginning to form. “We’ll do it at the party. After dinner, we’ll get him alone. Oh, it will be wonderful. We should shock him. Make him think he’s getting the carrot, but of course, we’ll give him the stick. We will absolutely break his spirit. You know that, Philip.”

Philip does. He wishes he didn’t, but he does.  _ Of course, you know, Philip. You were where Thomas is going to be, not so long ago. Or did you forget?  _ This makes Philip so angry. He wants to lash out, to scream. Merrill doesn’t seem to notice, he just keeps talking, “Well anyway, I suppose I’ve got to be off. I’ll go collect the others and leave you to your stallion.”

And with that Merrill strides out of the room. The door doesn’t close behind him. Thomas is holding it open, standing in the doorway. Philip stands and motions to Thomas.

“Come in. Close the door.” And Thomas does. He walks slowly over to where Philip is standing. Philip can’t help but notice that Thomas looks surprisingly calm. This just fuels Philip’s anger.  _ He should be scared. Doesn’t he know what he’s done?  _

“So” Philip makes sure to keep his tone light, “have you got anything to say for yourself?”

He expects Thomas to apologize. Instead, Thomas looks at him through his dark lashes, gray eyes gleaming, and says, “No. I don’t suppose I do.”

The stupidest, cockiest smirk pulls at the corners of Thomas’s mouth and Philip backhands him across the face, a loud crack echoing up to the high ceiling. 

Thomas’s hand flies up, clutching his cheek, and then he lunges at Philip, fists flying. 

He catches Philip in the jaw and Philip starts to see red, “That was a very bad idea,” He seethes this, grabbing hold of Thomas. And Philip punches Thomas in the stomach, hard and while Thomas is doubled over, he backhands him again. Thomas slides to the floor.

Philip straddles him, pinning him down, and punching him. “You absolute idiot. You made such a fool of yourself, you embarrassed me. You belong to me, Thomas. You listen to me.”

He twists Thomas’s arm, eliciting a whimper. He punches Thomas on his chest, in his ribs over and over again. Finally, Philip sits back, gasping for breath. Thomas looks up at him and Philip can see the fear in his stormy eyes. Which is why Philip doesn’t understand why Thomas opens his mouth again, “Is that all you’ve got?”

Philip stands and kicks him. Three times, hard. Thomas cries out, curling up. And Philip leaves him there, balled up on the floor like a little child.

**THOMAS**

Thomas doesn’t know how long he stays on the library floor. But, he watches the sunset and he doesn’t move. He’s sure the dinner bell must have been rung. No one bothered to get him, of course. He only stands now, as it’s almost dark. He manages to drag himself up the stairs, to the attic. His body aches all over and he’s holding back tears.  _ Don’t cry. Don’t cry.  _ He prays that everyone will be in their rooms so he can slip into his unnoticed. 

If only he was lucky. Because the hallway is empty, save for Rodney. Leaning against the wall, a cigarette between his teeth. He’s watching as Thomas limps and he laughs, a cold taunting laugh. And then it clicks in Thomas’s mind. Rodney knew. Rodney set him up. He knew that Philip would hurt Thomas. And he provoked Thomas into going upstairs.  _ Because he wanted to hurt you.  _

Thomas whirls back towards Rodney, his eyes blazing. “You-” he jabs his finger in Rodney’s face, “You bastard. You set me up. You knew what he would do and you told me to go up there. You knew he wasn’t alone. I-I hate you. You made him hurt me.”

Rodney stares at Thomas, and then he barks out another laugh, shaking his head. “No, Thomas. You made him hurt you.”

Thomas just gapes, watching as Rodney starts to walk away. It takes him a moment to find his voice. “I know why you’re acting like this.”

Rodney stops, slowly turning back, “No. No, you don’t.”

Thomas steps forward, closing the distance between them. “Yes. Yes, I do. I know about Jason. I-I know he was with Philip, in the way I am now and I know you loved him.” 

Rodney’s face flushes a deep red, “You do not say his name. You do not talk about him.”

Thomas doesn’t listen, “I know you’re mad I’m here instead of him, but that’s not my fault.”

Rodney looks away, his hands curling into fists, “Shut your bloody mouth.”

“It’s not my fault that whatever happened to Jason happened and you know that. Who knows? Maybe it was your fault and you’re taking your guilt out on me.” Thomas knows that was wrong to say. 

He knows he said it to hurt Rodney to get revenge, so he isn’t surprised when Rodney punches him in the face. Thomas gives a yell and shoves Rodney back. Rodney lunges again tackling Thomas to the ground. For the second time, Thomas is pinned to the ground, Rodney hitting him in the same places Philip had hit him not only hours ago. Thomas clutches at Rodney’s neck, scratching his skin. Rodney only pins him tighter. 

They must have been making an awful lot of noise, rolling around on the floor. Thomas isn’t exactly sure what strangled words are spilling from his mouth. He’s probably alternating between berating Rodney and begging him to stop. Rodney is switching between animalistic sobs and strings of curse words. 

Thomas feels as Rodney wraps his hands around his neck, choking him. Thomas tightens his own grip on Rodney’s throat and tries desperately to get him off, but Rodney holds tight and soon both boys find themselves turning red and struggling to breathe.

“Good God, they’re killing each other!” It’s only then that the two realize that they have acquired an audience. Oliver and Edgar are watching, mouths hanging open. Jimmy seems to have just joined them, it’s clear he must have been the one to make the earlier exclamation.

Rodney doesn’t loosen his grip and Thomas flails wildly underneath trying to get free. Jimmy tries to run forward, but Oliver holds him back.  _ Oh god. They’re going to let him kill me. This is how I die. They’re going to let Rodney kill me.  _

Thomas struggles with renewed vigor, crying out, “Stop! Please make him stop!”

And all of a sudden Rodney’s weight is gone, pulled off of him by Mr. Latham. Thomas watches from the ground as Rodney stumbles backward sobbing, Edgar, catching him before he can fall. No one comes to help Thomas.

Latham narrows his beady eyes and growls, “What a disgrace, the two of you rolling around like commoners in a bar. To bed. All of you. And I better not hear a single thing tonight.” He storms off, slamming the door to his room.

Thomas slowly sits up, a soft moan escaping his lips. Still, nobody moves to help him. Oliver and Edgar disappear into their room, without so much as even glancing at Thomas. Rodney clutches onto Jimmy, sobbing quietly now, as Jimmy leads him away. Jimmy looks back, his wide blue eyes filled with sorrow and pity for Thomas. But, he closes he and Rodney’s bedroom door and leaves Thomas alone in the dark hallway.

Thomas drags himself down the hall into his room. It’s nearly pitch black, but he doesn’t bother to turn on any lights. He tears off his clothes, letting them fall to the ground in disarray. His pale body nearly glows in the dark. He takes in all the marks on his torso, bruises on top of bruises. An especially angry one is spreading across his face and he reaches up gingerly, flinching away at his own touch.  _ Imagine that. Only an absolute idiot lets himself get beaten twice in a day. You didn’t even fight back.  _ It’s almost funny. Thomas tries to laugh, instead he starts to cry, quietly at first. But as he collapses onto his bed he dissolves into loud, shaking sobs, the tears flowing freely, soaking his pillow.

And eventually, Thomas falls silent, his sobs becoming quiet and muffled again. He almost drifts off to sleep. He would have if the moon didn’t suddenly shine through his window. It illuminates the bed, slipping onto the floor. And then Thomas sees him. He’s standing where he was the first time, at the foot of the bed. He being Jason, of course, his long auburn hair falling in his eyes, the moonlight shining through him.

Thomas jolts up, his face wet. He supposes he should be scared, but he’s not. Jason moves now, gliding over to the bedside. Thomas holds his breath, as Jason settles down next to Thomas. 

Gently he raises his hand to Thomas’s cheek. Thomas feels a cold sensation against his skin and he inhales sharply, Jason doesn’t say anything, just traces his fingertips across Thomas’s cheek, wiping away tears. His eyes travel down to Thomas’s chest, widening at the injuries. 

“Jason” Thomas whispers this, marveling at the spirit in front of him, “You’re Jason.”

The boy only nods. Thomas motions to himself, “I’m Thomas.”

“I know who you are.” It’s abrupt and shocking and Thomas pulls back. 

“You can t-talk?” And then “H-how did you know.”

“Well, I’ve watched you, Thomas. I lived here once, not long ago.”

“I know. I saw you on my first night. It terrified me.”

“I’m sorry,” his eyes fall back to Thomas’s bruises, “Are you alright?”

Thomas ducks his head and murmurs quietly, “No. I’m not.”

“He’s not always like that, you know.”

Thomas doesn’t know who he’s talking about. He doesn’t ask partly because he’s scared to know and also because Jason’s eyes grow distant and far away as he drifts over to the window, staring out wistfully. 

Thomas breaks the silence, with a shaky laugh. “You know when I first saw you I was so scared I thought I would run away and never come back.”

Jason doesn’t look away from the window, but his voice is deeper and laced with something dark, “Maybe you should have.”

Thomas blanches, clutching the blankets up around him, “What’s that supposed to mean.”

Jason doesn’t say anything. But he turns away from the window, back to Thomas and just stares, his gentle, sad eyes suddenly cold.

Thomas kneels, twisting the sheets. His hands shake and his voice trembles, “P-Please Jason. What’d you mean?”

Still silence, but tears begin to pour from Jason’s eyes and his body begins to shake. 

“Jason! Jason, what happened to you? What happened to you?”

And then blood begins to pour from Jason’s nose, running and mixing with his tears that drip and dissolve into nothing. 

Thomas covers his mouth, keeping the scream contained, but only just. And then Jason’s gone and the room is pitched into darkness. And Thomas begins to cry again, letting his sobs rock him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so that's my newest update! I'm going to try to update more regularly because my summer classes are ending, so hopefully, I'll have more free time. Please leave a kudos and comment. I would really like some feedback, so I can shape where this story will go. Thank you for reading!


	5. this little game of lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, this is a pretty short sort of filler chapter, I'm working in my next one and it will definitely be longer/ have more going on. I don't really think there are any specific warnings, so enjoy!!

**JIMMY**

Rodney cries all night. And Jimmy lets him, lets Rodney bury his face into Jimmy’s lap and he holds him while he sobs. Rodney clings to Jimmy and whispers the name Jason, over and over. And Jimmy doesn’t even notice, not really, because he’s only thinking about Thomas.

Is Thomas crying in the dark, all alone? If Jimmy was with him would Thomas cling to him like Rodney’s clinging to him now? Jimmy wishes he could go to him, but he can’t. When Rodney finally falls asleep, Jimmy goes and opens the door. He stands there in the hallway for a while. He doesn’t know what he’s waiting for. It’s not like Thomas is going to open his door and invite Jimmy in. So instead Jimmy goes back into his room and gets into bed. He doesn’t fall asleep for a while, instead he tosses and turns, black hair and pale skin filling his mind.

Rodney wakes him up at 7:30. It’s early, but Rodney always says they’re lucky. Other houses would have them waking up at 6 o’clock or even earlier. Still Jimmy groans and buries his face into his pillow. 

Rodney sighs, sinking down on Jimmy’s bed, “I’m sorry about last night, if I kept you from sleepin’ an’ all. But you’ve gotta get up, kid.”

Jimmy rolls over, rubbing his eyes. Rodney reaches over smoothing Jimmy’s hair back. Rodney’s eyes are bright and flashing. All hints of sadness from the night before have disappeared without a trace. But, Jimmy isn’t going to forget that easily. 

He sits up, yawning, “What happened last night? Between you and Thomas”

Rodney rolls his eyes and shrugs his shoulders, “He was being a little prick, I was just putting him in his place.”

Jimmy scoffs, “I don’t believe that.”  _ Not when you nearly killed him and were sobbing like a baby. _

“S’not a lie. Bastard was sayin’ things he shouldn’t ‘ave.”

“About Jason?” It’s sort of a shot in the dark because Jimmy doesn’t actually have any idea who Jason is. But, Rodney nods.

“Yes.”

“Who was-“

Jimmy doesn’t get a chance to finish the question because Rodney cuts him off abruptly, “Just someone that I cared about…” he pauses trailing off for a moment, “but, he’s gone now. Come on, get up and get ready.” Rodney hops up, pulling the covers off of Jimmy. Conversation over.

Breakfast is a hurried affair and Thomas doesn’t show up. While everyone’s finishing, Mr Latham leaves and reappears with a breakfast tray. It’s set up, very pretty, with fruit and flowers and even a glass of orange juice. There’s a little piece of paper, that must be a note, tucked under a bowl.

Mr. Latham sets the tray down in front of the boys and clears his throat, “His Grace requested that one of you boys bring this up to Thomas. I suppose he thinks that Thomas is feeling unwell today.” He glances around the table waiting for someone to volunteer.

Rodney juts out his chin and says, “Why can’t he just come down and get it ‘imself?”

“Because His Grace gave orders, Rodney. It’s to be taken up to him. Now, who’s going to bring it?”

“I will” The words fall out of Jimmy’s mouth, but he’s not sure he regrets it.

Mr. Latham nods in approval, “Thank you, James. It’s nice to see you taking some initiative. Now hurry along.”

Jimmy takes the tray, dodging the questioning stares from Oliver and Edgar and the glare from Rodney.

He gets upstairs quicker than ever. So quick that he’s nearly out of breath by the time he reaches Thomas’s door. He knocks without hesitation, but quietly. There’s no response so he knocks again. Still nothing. Carefully balancing the tray on one arm, he gently pushes open the door. 

Thomas is still in bed, his chest rising and falling slowly, his eyes closed. He’s still asleep and Jimmy doesn’t want to wake him. Quietly he sets the tray down on Thomas’s nightstand. He knows he should leave, but he can’t.

Thomas lies there barely covered by a thin sheet. He’s not wearing a shirt and Jimmy can see the bruises that cover his torso, presumably from his fight with Rodney, though Jimmy thinks there’s more than there should be.  _ Thomas and Rodney weren’t fighting for that long, where they?  _ There’s bruises on his ribs that look like they could only come from a series of violent kicks.  _ Rodney wouldn’t do that. That wasn’t him.  _ He’s been crying too, Jimmy can tell. Thomas’s eyes are swollen, his dark lashes seem to be wet still, like he cried all night. His black hair is clinging to his forehead and Jimmy has the urge to brush it back.

He almost does, but Thomas’s eyes flutter open, “Bloody hell!”

Jimmy jumps back, stuttering “S-sorry I was bringing you up a tray. I didn’t mean to wake you. I’ll go now.”

Thomas sits up, groaning. He pushes his hair out of his eyes and gives Jimmy a tight smile, “No it’s alright. Just toss me that shirt that’s on the dresser.”

Jimmy does, watching as Thomas catches it with ease and pulls it on. Thomas catches Jimmy’s eye and laughs, when Jimmy ducks his head, “You can sit if you’d like. I could use some company. Go on, pull that chair up.”

Jimmy does, Thomas takes the tray, looking it over. He scoffs and Jimmy smiles, “His Grace wanted us to look in on you. I guess he thought you were unwell.”

Thomas just shakes his head in seeming disbelief, “Sure. I’m not hungry anyway, you help yourself.”

Jimmy can feel his eyes widening, “Really?”

Thomas laughs and nods. Jimmy eagerly reaches for one of the oranges. It’s been forever since he’s had one. “Oh-” he says this with his mouth full, making Thomas laugh again, “There’s a note for you on the tray.”

Thomas reaches over and takes it. He leans back as he unfolds it, keeping it out of Jimmy’s sight. Jimmy watches as he reads the note, the smile never leaves his face, but Jimmy notices something clouding his eyes. Maybe sadness, maybe anger. Thomas folds it back up.

Jimmy can’t help himself, “What’s it say?”

Thomas tucks it behind his pillow, “He’s saying sorry.”

“For what?”

Thomas gives Jimmy a look, that makes Jimmy feel incredibly stupid. He motions to his chest and then the bruise on his face, “This.”

Jimmy understands now. He’d been right then, it wasn’t all Rodney’s doing. He doesn’t know what to say, he just looks down at the bedcovers.

Thomas breaks the silence, “It’s alright though. It was my own stupid fault anyway. Both times.”

“I’m sure that’s not-”

“No” Thomas cuts him off, “It was.”

Jimmy looks away, when he speaks, it’s very quiet and he hates how timid he sounds, “Are you going to leave, like you were talking about?”

Thomas gives Jimmy that same look, “I haven’t got anywhere to go.”

“I’m sorry. I knew that. If it makes you feel any better I can’t leave. I haven’t got a place to go either.”

Thomas smiles, “Yeah. I guess we’re just stuck then.”

Jimmy just looks away, a photograph of a woman on Thomas’s nightstand catches his eye. She’s strikingly pretty and she looks just like Thomas. “Is that your mother then?”

Thomas looks at the photo and flashes a smile, laced with sadness, “Yes. She was beautiful wasn’t she?”

“You look just like her.”

Thomas blushes, “That’s what everyone said. My dad especially.”

“He must’ve been proud, anyone would be to have a son as handsome as you.” Jimmy isn’t even trying to hide his flirtations now, but he can’t tell if Thomas is catching on.

Maybe not, for Thomas bites his lip and looks away, his smile disappearing,“No. No he isn’t proud of me at all.” He laughs then, quietly and his eyes go distant. “You’re too pretty for your own good. You look like a girl, act like one too, you disgusting little fairy. It’s your mother's fault. She’s made you soft,” He mutters this, to himself, like it’s not for Jimmy to hear. 

Jimmy doesn’t know what to say, all he can do is offer up a half-hearted “sorry.”

Thomas doesn’t seem to notice, just keeps talking, “But, I was her little baby. I was her star. She loved me more than anything.” A smile spreads across his face, “She loved me.”

Jimmy holds his breath, Thomas shudders seemingly snapping back to reality, “I’m sorry, you must think I’ve gone crazy.”

Jimmy shakes his head, quickly, “No. No, not at all. I felt the same way about my mother. I only lost her a few months ago.”

“I’m sorry. I lost mine when I was eleven. But, it still feels like yesterday.” And then, “Jimmy? Do you believe in ghosts?”

Jimmy is taken aback by the question and he doesn’t quite know what to say, “I don’t really know. Do you?”

“Yes. My mother comes to me sometimes, but she hasn’t in a while. There’s a ghost in this room, too. He’s not here now, but he was last night. His name’s Jason.”

_ Rodney’s Jason.  _ Of course. “Did he talk to you then?”

“Yeah. He did. He was nice, but then he started to scare me. I wonder how he died.”

Jimmy just shrugs, “I don’t know. He was gone before I got here and no one will tell me anything.”

Thomas smiles ruefully, “No one will tell me anything either- I’m not keeping you from work am I? I don’t want Mr Latham to get angry at you.”

Jimmy laughs, waving his hand dismissively, “Oh sod him. Want to play a game of cards?”

Thomas perks up immediately, “Sure, there’s a deck in the top drawer of the dresser.”

Jimmy gets up to fetch the cards, trying to hide the wide smile spreading across his face.

**PHILIP**

The tray and the note were Philly’s idea. He’d appeared in the morning, Philip had felt an ice cold sensation against his lips and he had woken up with a start. And there was Philly leaning over him. Philip had tried to push him off, but what was there to push off? Philly is just an apparition after all and Philip can never escape him, no matter how hard he tries.

But of course, Philly takes offense anyway. And Philip feels a weight on his chest, like two hands pushing him down. He writhes gasping for air, “W-what do you want?”

And the weight is gone and Philly’s leaning back, his signature cruel smile spreading, “That’s not a very nice way to greet your dear old uncle.”

Philip glares, gritting his teeth, “Just tell me what you need.”

“Well, I’ve come to help you, actually. You’ve got to fix this little mess you’ve made. What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Philly throws his head back and lets out a mocking laugh, “I’m talking about what you did to that boy yesterday.”

“Yeah, well he had it coming. Bursting in the room like that, humiliating me. He needed some sense knocked into him, or is that not what you always said?”

“I’m not saying he didn’t deserve it, but you’ve got to get him to trust you again. Show him that you care for him.”

Philip hates the way Philly is talking to him and his words come out sharply “What do you suggest I do?” 

Philly waves his hand dismissively, “Write him a note, have someone bring him up a pretty breakfast tray.”

“That’s all? Will that work?”

“It always made you trust me again, did it not?”

“Shut up.” But, he’s probably right. Philip doesn’t remember, he had done his best to block out those years of his life.

“I’m only joking. Oh don’t look so lost, you act as though you’ve never done this before. Have you not had other lovers before him?”

Philly always knows which buttons to push. Philip pouts, knowing full well he’s acting childish, “Yes, but none of them would have pulled a stunt like he did.”

Philly rolls his eyes, “Send him up a tray, give him some time and then go to his room and talk to him. Go on, write the note.”

So Philip does. He gets up and writes the note, feeling Philly breathing down his neck. 

**JIMMY**

It’s perfect. It really is. Jimmy sitting cross-legged on Thomas’s bed, Thomas sitting there too, knees drawn up to his chest. They’re in the midst of a card game, but they aren’t taking themselves seriously. Jimmy loves the way, Thomas’s eyes shine as he throws his head back in laughter. But, this newfound bliss is only momentary.

A knock sounds, but it seems to be coming from inside one of the walls. Jimmy wonders if maybe he’s just hearing things, but Thomas tenses immediately. Jimmy considers saying something, maybe making a joke about the ghost Thomas had mentioned, but the look in Thomas’s eyes keeps him quiet.

“You’ve got to go, Jimmy. Don’t worry about the tray, just go.” Thomas whispers this, while frantically gathering up the cards.

Jimmy jumps to his feet. Yet he still lingers in the doorway. It feels wrong leaving Thomas, leaving him on his own to face whatever is on the other side of the wall. Thomas seems so adamant, that Jimmy has no choice, but to shut the door between them.

**PHILIP**

Philip isn’t stupid. Also, the walls are rather thin. So he, in the secret passage, can hear the laughter coming from Thomas’s room. He knocks on the secret door and listens, hearing the hurried whispers, the quick footsteps, the door opening and then closing.

It’s almost funny, the way Thomas is so unwilling to do as he’s told. Philip just knows it was that annoying little blonde. It’s hard not to get angry, but then again it’s sort of his own fault. He should have just told Latham to bring the tray himself. He takes a deep breath and pushes open the door, trying to control himself.

Thomas is sitting up, still in bed. It seems like he’s barely trying to hide his guilt. His pale skin is flushed and he’s biting down on his lower lip. He doesn’t look up at Philip, just gazes down at his lap, almost shyly. And Philip wants to grab him and shake him, as hard as possible. Anything to get that look off Thomas’s face. The insanely innocent, shy look that makes Philip weak in the knees.

“He’s just my friend, is all. There’s no need to be jealous or anything.” Now Thomas looks up at Philip. Batting his long eyelashes as he says this. 

“Why would I be jealous? He can’t give you half of what I can.” Philip looks right at Thomas, fixing him with a cold, hard stare.

“How do you know that?” Thomas stares right back. It’s like he wants to make Philip angry, who knows? Maybe he does.

“Thomas, don’t be so impertinent. I came here to apologize.”

“Yeah, I know I read your note.” It’s obvious he’ll need more convincing, so Philip sits down gently on the edge of Thomas’s bed, ignoring the way Thomas pulls back, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

“Darling, I’m so sorry. I was just in a terrible mood last night and you sort of caught me off guard with your whole performance. And I guess I sort of lost control,” He leans over, gently cupping Thomas’s face in his hand.

Thomas tries to pull away. Philip grabs him by the shoulders, keeping him close, “Don’t play these games, Thomas. I’m trying to be nice.” And he leans and kisses Thomas roughly at first, but when Thomas kisses him back, he softens a little bit.

Yet Thomas is still the one to break the kiss, stuttering out a quiet excuse, “Don’t- I can’t.”

It’s getting too hard. All Philip wants to do is show Thomas who’s in charge, but instead, he softens his voice and gently guides Thomas closer again, “If this is still about last night, I’m trying my best to make it up to you. I want to touch you, to hold you, I’ll be gentle.”

With a sigh, Thomas sort of melts into Philip’s arms, tilting his head and offering up his pale neck. Philip attacks it, kissing his skin, biting down and sucking gently. He breathes in Thomas’s scent, soft and sweet. It’s easy, this game of lying that he plays. Pretending to forgive, pretending to forget, when he isn’t really doing either of these things. Begging for forgiveness, when he really doesn’t care how his lover feels at all.

To prove this to himself, he “accidentally” pushes hard on Thomas’s ribs, hiding his satisfied smirk when Thomas gasps in pain. Between kisses, he pretends to feel bad once again, “Oh, darling! I’m ever so sorry.” 

Thomas doesn’t say anything. Philip presses him closer, Thomas reaches up and pulls Philip’s dressing gown off his shoulders. Philip gently pulls Thomas’s shirt off, letting it fall carelessly to the ground. He loves the way that his own skin, golden and tan, contrasts with Thomas’s perfect ivory marred by red and blue bruises. Slowly and tenderly he runs his lips across them, feeling Thomas shudder and delighting in the little moan that escapes his lips.

“So, this-” He motions to the various injuries that cover Thomas’s torso, “This is our little secret. I assume you understand that you’re to keep all these things to yourself. But, you’re smart. I’m sure you didn’t say anything to your sweet little friend, did you?”

Thomas tenses, underneath Philip and looks down, “N-no. Of course, not.” He’s lying, that’s very obvious to Philip. But, he pretends not to notice.

“That’s a good boy.” And he kisses Thomas again.

When they pull apart, Thomas buries his face into Philip’s shoulder and whispers, “Will I still have to sleep with that man?”

Philip holds him tight and whispers back, “I’m not sure there’s a way around it. I owe Merril and he’s got connections. To some very dangerous people.”

Thomas tries to roll away, “I don’t see why I have to be a part of it. Repay him some other way.”

Philip pulls him back, “Don’t start a fight, Thomas.”

Thomas looks up at him, eyes flashing. “Why? Will you hurt me again?”

_ If I have too. And I’m starting to want too. _ But he’s supposed to be regaining Thomas’s trust, so he says, “No not if you’re a good boy. Do you promise to be good?”

And Thomas doesn’t say anything, just sighs and nods in resignation.

Philip plays with Thomas’s hair and says softly, “Then I promise I’ll never hurt you again.”

**THOMAS**

Thomas knows that everything coming out of Philip’s mouth is untrue, but he wants to believe it, he needs to believe it. So he does believe it.

Yes, he’s always been terrible at this lying game, no matter what he never wins.

Philip’s kisses are becoming more desperate and needier. Thomas will have to give in soon. The photograph of his mother catches his eye. Her eyes seem to have gone wide, her mouth seems to have opened like she’s trying to warn him. But, he reaches over, putting it face down, he doesn’t want her thinking of him as weak.. And then he becomes limp under Philip, letting him do as he pleases.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, that's it for now! I'm going to try to update more regularly, but it always takes me forever to get finish one chapter. Feel free to leave a kudos and please comment! I love to hear from you all :)


	6. deeper, darker, harder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm, an update! I don't really know what this chapter is, but I am slowly starting to figure out where I want to go with this story. TW: Mentions of suicide/suicidal ideation.   
> \-------------------------  
> Also thank you to the people who have left comments :) Enjoy!

**PHILIP**

It’s nearly an hour past noon by the time they’ve exhausted themselves, he and Thomas. They lie together, quietly, their breathing matching in rhythm. They stay like this for a while, Philip is the one who breaks away, disentangling himself. Thomas doesn’t appear to mind, just curls up on his side, and seems to fall asleep immediately. It occurs to Philip then, that Thomas must have been up very late, probably in tears. A sudden pang pierces through his chest. It’s an emotion he can’t quite put his finger on, maybe pity or maybe some type of guilt.

Whatever it is, it’s gone as quick as it comes and Philip falls back into the state that he works tirelessly to stay in. This state being one of cold stoicism, where he never feels anything except anger. He hasn’t always been this way. Though he’s tried his hardest to erase those years of his life. Years when he had been weak when he’d been used and broken and left for dead with a gaping hole clawed into his heart. The only way to fill this hole is to control and dominate and use as he had once been used. But, it never lasts. The boys he finds always lose their charm eventually, becoming just as cold and unfeeling as he is. And then he’s forced to start the doomed cycle all over again.

He can hardly remember a time when he felt joy. When he could still derive pleasure from activities other than inflicting pain and completely destroying someone’s will to live.

He had a happy childhood, sort of anyway. Well up until he was about ten years old, when his kind and fun-loving father got a little too drunk, lost his balance on the staircase, and never got up again. And he was left with his cold, distant mother, who, while happy to be free of the husband she had never loved, wanted nothing to do with the son she hadn’t ever asked for. She’d left Philip to his own devices, whilst she dashed all over the country with a multitude of men. He’d been stuck home with a rather boring governess, but he’d gotten on alright especially once he’d befriended Joey, the gardener's son.

During the day they’d had all the time in the world to tear through forests and fields, disappearing into fantasy worlds filled with kingdoms and faeries. And at night they would sneak away, tucked into the back of the garden shed, and explore each other's body with gentle kisses. Joey had always led and Philip had been content to follow. He’d been happy then, hadn’t he? 

He’s not so sure now. They’d had two years together, but he can only seem to remember it as one month maybe only one week. He’s lost so many of the memories they made. Lost the secrets they’d shared. Yes, those had died with Joey, whose young life had been claimed by a particularly nasty strain of the flu, on Philip’s twelfth birthday, no less. And Philip hadn’t been beside him, he’d been laid up in his bed suffering from the same illness. Joey must have caught it from a village child and then passed it on to Philip (Though Joey’s father would always claim it was Philip and his deviant behaviors that had killed Joey). Often when Philip looks back on this, he finds himself wishing that it was his life that was taken, not Joey’s. He might feel this way now, if he wasn’t so set on being unfeeling, that is. 

His thoughts are interrupted anyway when he stumbles out of the secret passage, into his dressing room and finds Latham waiting for him. In just his dressing gown, with his hair all mussed and his lips swollen from kissing, he suddenly feels very vulnerable, though he knows Latham has seen him in far worse states. 

“I've drawn a bath for you, Your Grace.” He gives Philip a smile, that’s gentle and caring, almost fatherly.

Philip does his best to return it, but he can feel it falter, as he follows Latham into the bathroom. 

Latham notices and gives him a concerned frown, clearly waiting for Philip to say something. But, Philip doesn’t want to talk and Latham doesn’t press, just helps Philip get undressed in silence. 

He leaves to get clothes and a towel and Philip sinks into the warm soapy water, letting out a loud sigh. He pushes himself all the way down until he’s almost completely submerged.  _ Suppose I just let myself drown, right here and now?  _ It won’t be hard, all he has to do is slide under the water and just let himself dissolve. But, with his luck, it probably won’t work, nothing ever does. Besides Latham is back, neatly placing Philip’s clothes on a nearby chair.

Latham turns, with that same soft look in his eyes, and says, “Something troubling on your mind, Your Grace?”

Philip doesn’t look up from the water, just mutters, “Death.”

Well, we'll all die one day, Your Grace. It isn’t anything to fear.”

Philip pulls himself up, shaking water out of his hair. He can’t help himself, “See, I don’t fear death. Not one bit. I’m afraid that I will never die, that’s really what I fear. That I’m just doomed to walk this earth forever, caught up in the same vicious cycle.”

Latham doesn’t even blink, just calmly says, “I don’t think that you need to worry about your mortality, Your Grace.”

_ But, that’s just it. I do.  _ Philip just lets it spill out, “Oh, but don’t you see? All around me the people I know have died. Death follows me, yet it never wants me.”

Latham just gives him that same, warm smile and sort of shakes his head, like Philip is just a child spilling nonsense, “Perhaps, Your Grace, you’ve been thinking too much.”

It isn’t the answer he wants and he’ll have to end the conversation. So he nods and plasters on a fake smile, “Perhaps I have,” he pauses before adding, “I think, Latham, that I would like to be alone for a while. I can dress myself.”

Latham looks a bit hurt, but he nods and turns to leave.

“Oh!” Philip stops him in his tracks, “And tell that little blonde to stay away from Thomas.”

Latham ducks his head, “Of course, Your Grace. He won’t be a problem anymore.” 

And he walks out, leaving Philip, who’s managed to become cold again, feeling a cruel satisfaction. But, the emotions come back to him as he watches his bar of soap come apart and dissolve in the water. Again, he wishes that the same thing would happen to him.

**JIMMY**

He and the others are standing around, trying to pretend like they’re doing work. Really they’re just listening to Oliver bragging about some village girl. Jimmy feigns interest only because the others are still viewing him suspiciously because of his eagerness to spend time with Thomas. Suddenly, everyone falls silent and Jimmy realizes that Mr. Latham has appeared. 

He keeps his head down and tries to look busy, but it seems Latham has other plans. His voice cuts through the air, cold and foreboding, “James. I need to speak with you.”

Jimmy doesn’t look at him, just keeps busying himself, “Now Mr. Latham?”

“Don’t be impertinent, James. Of course, I mean now.”

Jimmy sighs quietly and follows Latham into what is technically Mr. Michaels's office, Michaels should have retired ages ago and he never really seems to be around. Jimmy moves to sit, but Latham grabs his arm roughly, keeping him standing.

He gives Jimmy a glare so piercing that Jimmy steps back, stuttering, “I-I’m sorry, Mr. Latham did I do something wrong?”

“His Grace made it very clear to me that you’ve been making him unhappy.”

Jimmy bites back a laugh, it’s an absolutely ridiculous idea. Jimmy has barely crossed paths with the Duke since he’s returned. Well, except for that one incident regarding that photo, but he’d forgotten about that hadn’t he?

Latham isn’t amused by Jimmy’s silence because he cuffs Jimmy around the side of his head, hard. So hard, that Jimmy’s ears ring.

“Ow!” He clutches his cheek, tears burning at the corners of his eyes, “I d-don’t know what I did, Sir.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with His Grace’s boy. His Grace thinks the two of you are growing to close. He’s not yours to spend time with.”

He doesn’t like the way Latham says that acting like Thomas is just a possession. And so he speaks without really thinking. “I’m sorry, sir, but I was under the impression that Thomas is his own person and he doesn’t belong to anyone ‘cept himself.” 

Latham strikes Jimmy again and shoves him up against the wall, hard and quick before Jimmy can even react. “You’re under the wrong impression then James. Thomas is here for His Grace and His Grace only. And it’s in your best interest to listen to him.”

Jimmy can feel the tears in his eyes betray him, as they start to spill out. He whispers in a shaky voice, “ I just thought I could be his friend, that’s all.”

Latham just glowers down at him, “You won’t speak to him again, not unless I tell you too. It will do you good to listen, else you’ll be out of a job.”

And he throws Jimmy to the ground, leaving him huddled against the wall, not even trying to hide his tears.

“Ay Jimmy, what happened then?” It’s Rodney and he slides down next to Jimmy, offering a cigarette.

Jimmy shakes his head and Rodney lights it for himself. He exhales and gives Jimmy a concerned look, “So ’re you gonna tell me or not?”

Jimmy takes a shaky breath, struggling to speak through his tears, “ Latham, h-he hit me. H-he says I’m not allowed to talk to T-Thomas anymore because I’ve been getting t-to close to him.”

Rodney sighs, gently moving Jimmy’s hair back, “Well,” he kneels back onto his heels, “I could’ve told you that. In fact, I think I did.”

“Oh Rodney,” Jimmy gives him a pained smile, “Don’t be like that.”

“Well, it’s the truth, kid. It’s for the best anyway. S’not long until Thomas is just a shell of a person. That’s what happens to all of His Grace’s boys. I should know. I loved one of em’.”

“All I was doing was being a friend. Why does everyone act like His Grace owns Thomas?” 

Rodney blows a smoke ring and jumps to his feet. He pulls Jimmy up with him. “That’s the whole point, Jimmy, he does.”

**PHILIP**

He’s happy that Latham’s left him alone. His mind finds its way back to the supposedly troubling thoughts about death. He uses his new solitude to his advantage and slides all the way under the water.

_ Deeper and deeper.  _ He doesn’t try to hold his breath, he lets the water fill up his lungs. And he thinks of all the people he’s lost. Jason, Philly, Joey, his mother, his father, their bodies still, flesh turning gray.

_ Darker and darker.  _ He squeezes his eyes shut, tight, trying his best to keep himself under the surface. He wonders how long it will take for him to drown. As he pictures the corpses of those he once knew he tries to put his own face onto them. Tries to picture his own body, still and cold, finally at peace.

_ Harder and harder.  _ He can’t. No matter how much he tries, he can’t. And the skin of the corpses he’s imagining melt away leaving nothing but bones. 

Philip bursts out from under the water, red-faced and gasping for breath. He chokes and gags and finally tips his head back, closing his eyes and clearing his mind with gentle inhales and exhales. The bathroom door blows open and the water turns ice cold, very suddenly. 

It doesn’t scare him. He’s sure it’s Philly, just coming to taunt him once more. He speaks without opening his eyes, “Please go away Philly. I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Open your eyes, Philip.” It isn’t Philly’s voice. It’s soft and gentle.  _ Jason.  _ Slowly Philip blinks and sure enough there he is. He’s leaning over the bath, one transparent, bony hand trailing in the water. When he leans back, his long auburn hair falls in front of his eyes. 

“Oh god,” it comes out as a breathy whisper, “Jason.”

Jason drifts a little closer, a sad smile on his face, “Yes. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Philip chokes on his words, unsure of what to say, “I-I thought about coming to look for you. I mean I used to go to your room if I wanted to see you.”

“I know. I never really liked to leave it even before.” Jason pauses his eyes growing downcast, “But, he’s there now. I scared him, his first night. I thought it was you at first, but then I realized you must have replaced me.”

Philip looks away, pulling the plug and watching as the water spirals down the drain. This time, when he speaks he’s louder and more confident, “You don’t sound happy about that, Jason.”

Jason shakes his hair away, leaving his pretty face exposed, as he ducks his head and bites his lips. “Yeah, Philip, it makes me sad.”

_ Of course, it does.  _ But Philip doesn’t say that. He just gets out of the bath, keeping his back to Jason and wraps a towel around his waist. Finally, he turns back and says, “Don’t get jealous. You’re the one who left me.”

Jason’s brow furrows, “I’m not jealous. I’m angry.”

Philip scoffs. “And why is that, Jason? You always let little things get to you.”

“You promised.” Jason closes the distance shoulders shaking, eyes flashing, “You promised that you would stop. You promised.”

“Yes, well, I’ve never been good at keeping promises, have I? Besides, you shouldn’t have pulled your final stunt if you didn’t want me to find someone new.”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare,” The look in Jason’s eyes is almost murderous as he lurches forward. Philip feels a rush of cold air as Jason jabs his finger into Philip’s face, “No, you drove me to that. You were never going to let me go. I was a prisoner.”

_ Oh no. I loved you _ . He can’t say that, though. Jason never knew that when he was alive and there’s certainly no point for the ghost of him to ever know it. Instead, he says. “No. I wasn’t. You were my best boy. So different from all the others.”

Jason’s crying now, rivers flooding from both eyes and dissolving into thin air. “I-I was different because you expected me to turn into you, like all the other ones before me did. You thought I would become cruel and cold and stop feeling, but I didn’t.”

It’s painful, everything Jason says. Maybe because it’s true. And also because Philip wants nothing more than to comfort Jason, but he can’t. He can’t be weak and Jason isn’t really there anyway. So all he says is, “No. You didn’t. You would do anything for me, though. You were absolutely ruined.”

Jason just shakes his head, “But, I was ruined before you, long before you. When you got me I was already so broken, I let you do whatever, but it still hurt. And I knew that I was never going to be able to stop feeling the pain. And Thomas. He won’t either, he's ruined too. You might not know it, but I do.”

This catches Philip off guard. How can Jason know of Thomas’s past, unless… “So you’ve acquainted yourself with him?”

“He didn’t tell me, I saw it in his eyes.” Jason’s still crying.

“Yes, but he isn’t like you. He’s always fighting with me, always arguing. It’s a constant power struggle.”

Jason sighs, “And that’s why you’ve got to let him go. Please, before you hurt him even more. Please let him go, don't drive him to the end.”

Philip laughs. He has too because if he doesn’t he thinks he might cry. “So you’ve warned him about me then?”

Jason’s stopped crying and his eyes are back to blazing with anger. He clenches his fists and scowls at Philip, “I tried, but my throat closed up. I’ll find a way to do it. You won’t kill him too.” Jason’s body begins to shake and blood pours from his nose.

“Jason!” Philip dashes forward to hold him, but Jason is gone, leaving the room very cold and very quiet. And Philip starts to cry. He can’t help himself.


	7. seeing things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a short chapter that is kind of just haunted sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, two chapters in a row! Just kidding, they were originally going to be one chapter, but I split them into two.

**THOMAS**

When Thomas wakes up again, he lies there for a while basking in the afternoon light. It spills through his window illuminating his body, naked, skin still flushed from his earlier encounter with Philip.

It was nice actually. Philip had been gentle and sweet like he was at the start of the London season. Philip had spent ample time pleasing Thomas, sending soft waves of pleasure all through his body, caressing and kissing skin he had bruised only yesterday. And those touches made Thomas forget all about the violence that had been directed towards him. Those touches had filled him with warmth and rocked him to sleep.

But now, waking up alone with Philip gone, Thomas can’t help but feel sort of empty. His body is starting to throb again. And he doesn’t know why he always lets this happen to him. Why he always falls in with men who don’t seem to know their own mind. 

He cleans himself up and gets dressed. He wonders if maybe he should ignore the luncheon bell when it rings, but he’s hungry so he goes downstairs. Nobody says a word to him, nobody even looks at him.

He thought that Jimmy would have saved a seat for him, but he hasn’t. He doesn’t return Thomas’s smile, he just stares back at him stonily. And when Edgar says something cruel about Thomas, Jimmy throws his head back and laughs a pretty, taunting laugh. Thomas can feel his face flushing red.

He ends up eating outside in the yard, by himself. When he comes back inside he keeps his head down. Maybe if he looked he would have caught sight of the wistful glance Jimmy gives him when he walks by. But Thomas doesn’t, so he’s left to think that once again he’s lost a friend by simply doing nothing at all. 

He decides he doesn’t mind the whole not actually being a valet thing so much. He likes that he doesn’t have to do any work, that he’s free to lounge around and read whatever books he wants from Philip’s library. It’s nice. But it would be nicer if he didn’t feel so alone. He realizes now that he’s going to be dependent upon Philip from here on out. Maybe if he has a friend downstairs it won’t be so bad, but it seems like everybody has decided to shut him out.

Thomas goes upstairs early, as soon as dusk begins to fall. He gets ready for bed, intent on catching up on the sleep he lost the night before.

**PHILIP**

After leaving him on his own for the entirety of the day Latham appears and asks what Philip wants to do for dinner. 

Philip sighs lazily, letting the book he’s reading fall to the floor. “I think, Latham, I’ll take a tray in the drawing-room. He pauses, buttoning up his shirt, “You know, actually send up two trays and Thomas with them.”

Latham looks a bit taken aback, “I-I think he’s gone to bed, Your Grace. Besides, he hasn’t got the right clothes or”

Philip cuts him off, “Oh for god sakes, it’s just him and me, it doesn't matter what he’s got on. Just send him up.”

Latham nods resignedly, “As you wish, Your Grace.”

**THOMAS**

He’s not even in bed for five minutes, before there’s a knock on the door. He groans, rolling over to switch on the light.

“Who is-”

The door opens before he can finish. It’s Rodney, arms crossed, looking smug. “Get up. Philip wants you.”

Thomas is caught off guard by Rodney’s bluntness, “W-what the hell?” is all he can think to say. 

Rodney laughs and speaks slowly in a very patronizing tone, “His Grace has requested that you join him for dinner in the drawing-room.”

That’s the last thing Thomas wants to do. “Can I decline?”

Rodney laughs again, “We both know that it’s not an offer.”

Thomas sighs, throwing back the covers, “I’ll have to change then.”

“No. He says he doesn’t care. So come on.”

And Thomas follows, feeling very vulnerable in his thin linen pants and undershirt.

**PHILIP**

Philip makes sure to be seated in his armchair, reclining languidly, when Thomas comes in. Thomas appears to have been dragged out of bed. And he looks very beautiful, innocent and childlike. His raven hair falls into his eyes and his red lips are full and pouting. His long eyelashes would make him almost doll-like if he wasn’t glaring daggers at Philip, that is.

It seems that everything annoys Thomas, and this, in turn, annoys Philip. So he laughs coldly, giving Thomas a once over, and says, “You should see how absolutely ridiculous you look. In your pajamas with that scowl on your face.”

Thomas rolls his eyes, which narrow even more, “Well maybe if I actually wanted to be here. But I was about to go to sleep, Philip.”

“I’m trying to do something nice, darling. Why are you making it so hard?”

Philip expects him to snap back, but instead, Thomas softens. His eyes become downcast and a small sad smile plays across his lips, evoking the earlier image of a porcelain doll.

When he speaks it’s very quiet and Philip has to strain to hear him, “I’m sorry. I ruin everything.”

“No, I’m just being silly. You haven’t ruined a thing. Come, Thomas. Sit. Have a cigarette.” He watches as Thomas crosses the room settling down beside him. Thomas accepts the cigarette and lets Philip light it. They smoke in silence for a moment. Philip decides to be the one to break it.

“I’ve only just realized that we’ve been together for nearly two months and I hardly know a thing about you.”

Thomas laughs, blowing smoke out of his nose. He taps his fingers on his leg and looks up at Philip, “What is there to know?”

Philip laughs. Thomas is right anyway. Philip doesn’t really care about Thomas’s past. He doesn’t care about Thomas’s future. He only cares about right now. Right now he wants Thomas. He wants to get back at Jason for making him cry and he’s got just the plan to do it.

**THOMAS**

The dinner is very good and unlike anything, Thomas has ever eaten. He feels very special. He wishes his father could see him now.  _ You said I would never amount to anything, huh? Well, look at me, eating dinner in a beautiful estate with my lover. My lover who happens to be a duke. _

“-Thomas” Philip’s voice breaks into his thoughts.

“Sorry. Yes?”

Philip leans close, his eyes dancing and flashing in a particularly devilish way. “Let’s go out on the balcony. It’s a beautiful night. We can look at the stars.”

Thomas follows him onto the balcony. The cool night air hits him and he shivers. Philip pulls him close, wrapping him into a warm embrace. Thomas almost feels safe, almost feels full again, almost like…

“I love you.” It slips out again and Thomas curses his mouth. It never seems to be on his side.

Philip laughs, “Oh Thomas,” and spins Thomas around, pushing his back up against the railing and kissing him with ferocity.

Thomas kisses him back, feeling Philip against his leg. A moan escapes his lips as Philip slides his hand into his pants.

“I want to have you. Right here. Right now. Under the stars.” This comes in the form of a breathy whisper up against Thomas’s neck. 

“Someone might hear us, or see us, Philip.” Yet, it seems very daring and possibly very fun, so he says, “But, alright.”

Philip lets out a sigh, “Wonderful,” and turns Thomas around. Thomas catches himself.

Then, leaning over the railing, he realizes how high up they are. 

He must have tensed up because Philip stops, his hands on Thomas’s waistband. “Darling, don’t look down. Look up or shut your eyes.”

Thomas shuts his eyes, sighing gently as Philip slowly drags Thomas’s pants down over his hips, letting them fall to his ankles. He gasps as he feels Philip’s fingers inside of him, slick with oil he must have had stored deep in his pockets. He can hear Philip unfastening his trousers and then his cock is inside of Thomas.

Thomas moans again, as Philip gains speed and picks up a rhythm. Philip puts a hand over Thomas’s mouth, and kisses his neck, whispering, “We’ve got to be quiet, darling. Don’t want to be getting caught.”

So Thomas bites his lip, clutches tighter onto the railing, and keeps his eyes shut tight.

He doesn’t open his eyes for a while. Philip is still going, faster, harder, and deeper now. One hand digs into his hip, the other still covers his mouth. He opens his eyes when a cold burst of air seems to push right through him.

His eyes fly open and he finally sees just how far Philip has bent him over the balcony railing. He has no choice, but to look down. And when he does he nearly screams. For there’s a body lying on the ground below. It’s Jason, naked and glowing, blood pouring from his nose, neck at an odd angle, hair matted, bones sticking out. His eyes are open and very dead. 

“Philip” It comes out as a muffled, strangled cry. Philip just clamps his hand harder, thrusting faster. 

“Philip please.” It doesn’t sound like much of anything. Jason’s body doesn’t go away. Thomas starts to cry. He can’t help himself. He bites into Philip’s hand without realizing it. 

“God Thomas!” And Philip pulls out of him, turning him around very roughly, shoving him to his knees.

“Philip, I’m seeing-” He doesn’t get to finish. Philip’s cock fills his mouth and leaves it’s come deep in Thomas’s throat. Thomas chokes, gasping and sobbing. Philip roughly reaches down and brings Thomas off. It’s not fun anymore though. 

**PHILIP**

Philip looks down at Thomas, who’s become a sobbing mess, huddled against the railing, “What’s gotten into you Thomas, have you gone insane?” 

Thomas looks up, tears clinging to his lashes. “I-I think I’ve been seeing things.” And then “C-could I have a cigarette?”

Philip crouches down, handing one to Thomas. He lights it for him and watches as Thomas raises it to his lips with a shaky hand.

_ It worked then.  _ Thomas must have seen Jason. This means that Philip’s plan worked, at least he’s telling himself that. It wasn’t a complete success, but it still was a success, all the same, right? 

Philip decides to humor Thomas, so he sits and pulls him close letting Thomas bury his face into his shirt. “Tell me, darling. What did you see?”

“His body. All smashed up, on the ground. J-Jason’s.”

So that was his attempt at warning Thomas off. It’s scared him, that’s for sure, but it doesn’t seem like it’s done anything else. Everything would probably be fine if Philip just leaves it there, instead, he speaks without thinking, “Well it was a very tragic incident. Who told you about it, Rodney?”

Thomas looks up, brow furrowed, “Incident? W-what do you-” He cuts himself off as realization and then horror clouds his face, “Oh my god! This is where he died! He jumped off, didn’t he? Oh my god!” 

Thomas lurches forward, face contorted in anger, cigarette crushed and forgotten, “You didn’t think to say anything?”

_ Oh god, here we go again. Why must he always be so excitable?  _ Philip manages to keep his composure, standing up and resting against the railing “What difference does it make?”

This only stokes the fire. Thomas stands up, eyes storming, and practically growls, “ What difference? It’s cruel Philip. And it’s wrong. It’s just plain wrong.” 

Philip just stares back at him, refusing to react. Thomas huffs, readjusts his clothes, and storms off.

“Don’t ruin this Thomas,” Philip calls out, sounding needier then he would have liked. 

Thomas stops, spins around, and shakes his head, “No, Philip. For once I didn’t ruin it. You did.” 

“Thomas don’t you dare walk away from me!” But the door slams and he’s gone, leaving Philip to punch at the air and let out a string of improper words. Over the railing he can see Jason’s body, unmoving and shimmering, taunting him once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my newest update, feel free to leave a kudos and/or comment! I'm going to try to update more frequently, as I start to figure out where I'm going with this story, but right now I'm kind of just making things up as I go along :)


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